The Sandtrooper's Story
by DewbackRider
Summary: Sandtroopers scattered across countless desert worlds live, work and die in places most people would rather forget. Some operate outside the official scope of the Empire. This is the story of such a group.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - Origins**

Although the two thermal detonators themselves did not vibrate in any way, I could feel a trembling pulsation in my outstretched hands. Tiny embedded lights in the surfaces of the explosive devices winked on and off, pulsing in the dim light between the cloaked figure and me. I was fully prepared to detonate them both, ending the paths of two warriors, and departing this life here, now if that became necessary.

My lightsaber lay on a stone workbench on the second level. The blade I had used to hunt and execute countless numbers of his kind during The Purge would not help me this time. As I had been taught years before, my mind was clear and guarded, there would be no tricks played by the Jedi that stood between the cave opening and me.

My preoccupation with the jobs at hand must have been thoroughly distracting. By the time his approach was felt, it was too late.

In the seemingly endless space between the nanoseconds that now ticked away, my mind raced, crashing through a cascade of memories as I recalled the chain of events that had brought us both to this singular moment . . .

In the last years of the Old Republic, leaders of industry and the head of the Mining Guild were assembled by Count Dooku to form a select sub-group of the Trade Federation. None were aware that Dooku was secretly Darth Tyranus, Sith apprentice to Darth Sidious, and that Sidious was masquerading as Senator Palpatine, the Sith Lord who would become Emperor. The veiled agenda motivating the group's formation lay in the need for pooled resources to bring a sickeningly monstrous undertaking to fruition.

It was in the early stages of battles that would later become known as the Clone Wars, Count Dooku and a team of Geonosian design experts successfully completed planning and launched the covert construction of a weapon that would carry the Trade Federation and Dooku's Sith master into a new era of galactic domination and unimaginable power.

The sheer scope of their plan, not only in physical size, but also in the scale of the deception, was staggering. Planets represented by the Guild were mined for the ores needed; stripped of their raw materials, each burning brightly in the flurry of activity and jobs that the project required as they were consumed.

As mining efforts were withdrawn and the jobs disappeared, they were left behind as mere shells of what they had once been; barren reminders of the Empire's blind ambition, all but dying out entirely.

In extreme cases, breathable gases had to be collected from the atmosphere and forced into contained cities. In the more fortunate locations, only moisture needed coaxing from the air using evaporative collection units.

The project was kept hidden from everyone except those responsible for its design. Once construction began, the design team was summoned to an emergency meeting. While en route to the meeting, their transport shuttle fell victim to a horrible navigational mishap.

The ship's nav' computer was somehow set for a lightspeed jump on a course that directed it through a tight clustering of stars. The ship was vaporized, and unfortunately, the crew and passengers along with her.

It was rumored that one of the weapons designers, Moff Rebus, had missed the flight, and gone into hiding following the accident. He would factor into my life years later, during my missions on Anoat.

In the years that unfolded during the course of the ravaging Clone Wars, many things came to light. General Grievous was sought and ultimately destroyed by General Obi Wan Kenobi; Darth Sidious was entrenched deeper than ever in his plan to unravel the fabric of the Republic, and as the beginning of the end, Sidious' Sith apprentice, Count Dooku, was slain by Anakin Skywalker; beheaded by his own blade in combat.

Years before, in Skywalker's youth, subtle groundwork had been laid, guiding him along a crooked path. It lead him to a decision making crossroad where ultimately he would not only replace Dooku as Sidious' Sith apprentice, he would do so of his own choosing. The newly born Sith lord, Darth Vader, would be instrumental in the complete and utter eradication of the Jedi protectors of the Republic that stood directly in the way of his new master's power play.

By the time the Jedi Temple fell under Skywalker's hand, and the very letter of Executive Order 66 was being carried out by clone units across the galaxy, the skeletal framework of the project was nearing completion.

Raw materials were flooding in from the Mining Guild to a remote construction location to continue the work. The surreptitious project had been so expertly protected and hidden from even the Jedi by Dooku, that Emperor Palpatine commissioned a Garrison from among the handpicked members of Darth Vader's 501st Legion, the very troops that had stormed the Jedi Temple alongside him, and placed them in charge of security for the station's construction.

To honor his fallen apprentice, he anointed the newly formed group:

GARRISON TYRANUS.

At this time, I was growing up on Tenaab, which had thankfully avoided the gutting so many other planets had endured, mainly because of the Imperial shipyards located there. It had had very harsh cold seasons, so my family would spend that time with relatives on nearby Corellia. My father was an engineer, and my mother worked for an Imperial agency. She spoke little of it, and I never pushed to know more than she offered.

When I was a boy, I worked for my father at Industrial Automaton, building astromech droids. It was this work that revealed my love of engineering, design and construction. Industrial Automaton, at that time, before their merger with Soro-Suub, was a wholly owned subsidiary of BlasTech Industries. I spent my last few seasons on Tenaab working for BlasTech designing field cannons and orbital platform armaments.

After my shift, I would sometimes hang around to watch the Imperial Cargo ships arrive, with Stormtrooper guards picking up container after container of E-11's. I knew someday I wanted to be one of them, but still being slightly underage, that was as close as I could get to the action of the Empire.

Over the next two seasons, I learned how to install intelligent turbolifts, compactors and garbage chutes in my "life before the Empire", while interning in the Tenaab shipyards. I spent more time than I care to remember installing mile after mile of turbolifts and massive trash compactor systems in the bellies of starships. As one of my installation assignments came to a close, I was selected, along with a group of several hundred other workers for a new project that would last several seasons. At the new, clandestine location, we installed garbage chutes, trash compacters, waste-recycling economy systems and turbolifts on a massive project that dwarfed any I had previously worked.

On one occasion I asked a Stormtrooper standing guard what the huge skeletal framework was supposed to be for. I was quickly told it was better to know less and live longer. I had worked on many ships over the years, and it didn't look like any ship I had ever seen. It looked more like some kind of space station, but I kept my observations quietly to myself. My interest, however, was irretrievably piqued, and it was there that I signed up with the Empire. I was accepted into Stormtrooper training almost immediately and shipped off to Carida for nearly a year of intense training.

The construction project continued to move ahead as I trained. Its scale was enormous, never before equaled in all of recorded history; the final product would be roughly the size of a Class IV moon. By compartmentalizing their tasks, secrecy was maintained even from those troopers working on it.

With the birth of the Rebellion, supply lines became compromised in some sectors. The fledgling rebels had no idea what supplies they were diverting or destroying. They simply knew the cargo was stamped with an Imperial security code, and they attacked the defenseless federation convoys. The ambushes spooked many of the regular suppliers. They were transport pilots with families, just working for a paycheck. After the first wave of attacks, many walked away from the job. Those that remained were smugglers for the most part; less than reputable and suspect in and of themselves.

Shortly after the end of the final clone battles on Kashyyyk, many of the Wookiee survivors were enslaved and taken to work on the construction. In the years that followed, there were several instances of small, unorganized uprisings among the Wookiees, which were dealt with swiftly and brutally.

One of the smugglers, so troubled by what he saw, broke into the slave quarters, destroying records and freeing several hundred of the hairy Wookiee giants. He set off several dozen explosive charges, destroying a weapons stronghold, and made his escape with at least one of the Wooks aboard his ship. Most of the delivery manifests were destroyed in the raid, and the rogue pilot was never identified.

The only manifests recovered from the burned out wreckage showed inbound shipments from the remote desert planets Dantooine and Tatooine to the construction site, with continuing flight plans to the Endor system.

After my graduation from the Academy, I was assigned to Garrison Tyranus and sent for more training in a small unit on one of those very planets; Dantooine. The arid landscape there served as a perfect proving ground for practicing and honing desert survival techniques and skills I had learned in the classroom. Although the assignment was far more intense and challenging than I had ever expected, I enjoyed it, and asked to remain deployed there as a TD designated Sandtrooper.

I settled in with a small squad of troops in charge of monitoring several mining facilities, each of which fed a constant stream of ore transports to the project build site. In the several years that followed, I kept in contact with others from my garrison who were assigned as security for "the project". They kept me up to date as I trained to become a sniper, mastering the DLT-19 before being reassigned to Mimban. Soon thereafter, shipments of ore ceased from Tatooine, but continued steadily from Dantooine until many years after my departure.

Somewhere along the line I lost touch with the troops working security, and my interests were pulled in other directions as my assignments called me to many new places across the galaxy.

While my friends at the project build site had been able to maintain security, they didn't have the numbers needed to repel any serious external assaults or onboard insurrections should they have arisen. The project had also grown too large to keep concealed from long-range scanners.

Loyalists from Alderaan and many other inner systems were merging efforts to scan for possible remote building sites. They feared the very covert operations that were currently under way. They hoped to one day regain the peace they had known before the Empire, and acted to protect the remaining civilized pockets of their broken Republic.

Remote listening posts, comp scanners and orbital signal-jamming platforms were deployed to assist in keeping the draped veil securely in front of the project. Behind the shroud, armored ground assault vehicles, TIE squadrons, speeder bikes and a weapons stockpile including hand-to-hand weapons along with larger scale, sonic charges was amassed.

In all, the project progressed for nearly twenty standard years from its inception until all systems were finally brought online, and its existence was made known; its name revealed . . . Death Star.

With the battle station completed, the security team headed by Garrison Tyranus was reassigned to other duties close to the Sith Lord. Some were dispatched to temporary assignments on the new battle station, some to duty onboard Star Destroyers, with the remainder being assigned to various other posts, depending on their training and specialty.

Some of the members of Garrison Tyranus were assembled into a small patrol unit, assigned to re-establish an Imperial presence in the closed outpost on Tatooine.

It was with the formation of this new unit that my standing transfer request was finally answered. Late in the day, as I was returning from a 3 day mission in the caves beneath Anoat City, my CO confirmed the transfer.

"Deckard, I just got the holonet confirmation of your transfer approval. I don't remember signing off on this, but I guess I must have if it's going through."

"Thank you, sir" I replied.

"So, how did things go this time?"

I shouldered my rifle and glanced back toward the entrance of the caves, "It went as well as could be expected. We found traces of old camp locations Rebus used, but no luck locating his . . ."

I turned my head back around to look at my CO, only to find that he had walked away from me as I was in the middle of my reply. This had become typical and was not completely without some level of anticipation, but it still pissed me off. He must have had a sudden, urgent need to _check in with headquarters_. I often wondered if he ever did any work at all. The rest of us in his unit were constantly pulling his weight and making the difficult, necessary decisions while he disappeared at critical moments.

I glanced skyward. Dark clouds were slowly gathering, and moisture hung heavy in the air as night came on, preparing to dump yet more water on us.

I entered my barracks, hurriedly gathered my gear together and slipped off my armor plates. I sat down, flipped open my field holonet pack and keyed a special request to the pilot of the shuttle that would be arriving in the morning. Confirmation of my sent message flashed 3 times on the small screen. I leaned back in the chair and switched it off. I was _finally_getting out of here.

That pleasant thought lingered in my mind as I stood up and crossed the small space to my bunk. I sat on its edge, and lifted my legs up and in as I lay my head back to the pillow. My empty stomach growled, begging to be fed, but after the day I had had, I was just too tired to eat. My eyes burned as thoughts and images from the past several days flooded through my head. My breathing slowed and steadied and I gave in to the seductive reprieve of sleep as the sound of the first droplets of falling rain became an elemental, hypnotic rhythm.

I awoke with a heart-pounding start to the blare of the claxon mounted on the wall of the barracks. Other troopers began slipping on their gear and heading out for chow. It was almost light, and I knew my shuttle would be there soon. I gathered the few personal belongings I had and shoved them into my gear bag. As I was drawing the closure tight, I heard the whine of engines overhead. Standing anxiously, I crossed the room to the door and pushed it open.

The rain had stopped and through the haze of humidity I could see the morning shuttle arriving on the landing platform. I slipped through the door and jogged the short distance to the base of the platform and took the stairs 2 at a time. As I reached the top and stepped onto the landing pad, I noticed the ground crew already at work unloading supplies from the hold. The pilot was going over the manifest with them when I came running up. He shot me a look, shook his head and smiling, threw me a small, light pouch.

"I guess you got my message?" I said, snapping a quick, relaxed two-fingered salute his way as I turned away, racing off down the steps.

"We're lifting off shortly! Hurry Up, Deckard!" he shouted after me.

I ripped open the pouch as I disappeared down the stairs. Out slid a new black thermal body glove. I held it to my face and breathed in deeply; it smelled new, nothing like the filthy sewers of Anoat, the way mine did. I had been on this rock for several years, and there had never been any point to getting a new one, knowing I would just be going back into the sludge and muck below in the caves and sewers. But now, well, now was a different story, I thought, as I walked to the barracks. Now I was getting out of here. No more lizard-ants. No more sewers.

I threw open the door to the empty barracks and disappeared into the shower, as I stripped off the disgusting old body suit. A short time later, I emerged again, clean and adjusting the fit of the new glove. I tossed the old one in the waste chute and slipped on my armor plates. Grabbing my gear bag, rifle, environmental backpack and helmet, I took one last look around, then walked out toward the shuttle.

This morning, I chewed on a high-energy ration bar for my breakfast as I walked up the boarding ramp into the ship. The last of the supplies had been offloaded and the pilot was bringing the engines online for our departure. I walked between the twin rows of jumpseats. I moved all the way forward, just behind the gunner's seat and folded my metal seat down. Restraint harnesses hung from the bulkhead in a row behind the seats. I clipped my rifle into the mounted rack in the center of the aisle, and dropped my gear bag and pack to the deck, kicking them back under my seat.

I placed my bucket down in front of them and stepped one leg into the harness as I sat down. The thin metal was cold and hard, I thought, as I pulled the restraint up. In the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter as long as I was leaving this place! I put one arm through a hanging strap, then the other and clipped the two halves of the harness together with the crotch strap into the center clasp at my chest. I settled in for what was likely to be only the first leg of a long flight.

The ramp retracted and rose into the stowed position, airlocks sealing with a hiss. The pilot called back to me, "You in?"

I yelled back to be heard over the engines, "Let's get out of here before somebody changes their mind!" I felt the ship lift under the force of its' repulsor field, and heard the engines' whine rising to a loud, dull roar as the shuttle rose further away from the deck and pivoted, climbing skyward.

The row of stowed jump seats rattled and the swinging restraint harnesses jangled noisily as the upward reaching wings lowered into their familiar triangular shape.

I leaned forward, peering out the port in front of the gunner's seat, and watched Anoat slip into the archives of my _past_tours of duty as we accelerated away into the darkness toward my new post. I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the cold, vibrating bulkhead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Journey Toward Destiny**

Coruscant. The bustling, shining beacon in the center of the known galaxy, once home to the Jedi Temple and the Galactic Senate of the Old Republic, was a planet that had been developed and cultivated over the millennia into one all-encompassing city.

It was here, beginning with the slaughter of the unsuspecting Temple Jedi by Darth Vader and our troops of the 501st Legion, and continuing with the rise of Emperor Palpatine, the Old Republic crumbled and fell away under the weight of the crushing new Galactic Empire. The last remaining decent members of the Senate were removed, and the integrity of its offices breeched as they were quickly overrun with beauraucrats, fat from their business associations with the Emperor's New Order.

Many years had passed since those last days of the Clone Wars, and the first days of turbulence and transition that followed under the Empire. Much that was valued had been lost. The innocent grandeur and the stability of power and reason within the Republic had been splintered into a million ruined shards, scattered to the four corners of the galaxy. The Jedi were mercilessly sought, hunted down and exterminated.

It was believed that when the blasters were silenced on the fourth day following the enactment of Order 66, nearly every one of them had been killed, master and youngling alike, save the Emperor's new Sith apprentice Darth Vader. He once had been a great Jedi warrior and hero of the Republic before his turn to embrace the darker teachings of the Force.

Coruscant weathered the storm silently, like tall grass in a strong wind, yielding to the revolution, the transition of power. The city lights winked and shimmered like stars across the planet's surface as a lumbering freighter requested clearance to set down in the Imperial shipyards just outside Imperial City.

*

Sparks erupted from the welding tool and rained down over gloved hands as Taka attached the scope rail to the barrel of his custom rifle. He switched off the welder and pulled his safety goggles up onto the top of his head as he rolled in his chair over to check the crackling request coming through on the comm station. He glanced to an adjacent screen for clearance code transmission. It was the _**Resolute Servant**_, inbound heavy freighter from Muskree. He then checked docking availability and keyed the comm to respond, "_**Resolute Servant**_, you are cleared for approach to landing pad sector 138011. A ground team will be readied and awaiting your arrival." He keyed off the comm and logged them into the appropriate slot. Then he moved back to his rifle. He screwed the new scope securely in place; it fit down perfectly over the freshly attached mount.

The grounding clips pulled loose from the gun with a jerk of his hand as he unclamped the long barrel and wiped away several curled metal shavings. The scope flickered to life as he inserted the power cell clip. He raised the new gun to his shoulder and looked into the eyepiece. The reticle imaging floated over a rusted bolt head protruding from the wall on the far side of the room.

He flicked off the lock and fired a single blast of crimson. The bolt head and two centimeters of the rusted metal plate on either side was instantly vaporized in a bright flash. A small stream of smoke rose from the blast point as he lifted his eye from the scope to inspect the damage, "Now that's more like it!"

A voice called out from the hallway, "HEY! Don't shoot, I'm just looking for my shuttle assignment!" A dirty, armored trooper stuck his head through the door, gearbag over his shoulder and E-11 blaster drawn and held out.

Taka lowered his rifle, "Sorry, just testing some new sight modifications. Who are you? Where are you headed?"

"There are a couple of us here. I'm Ddraig Masnachwr, TD-3195."

Two other troopers pushed through the door behind him, "Folson Danz, TD-8733 here and TD-1265 as well."

Danz looked at 1265 and asked, "Wasn't the new guy, 1344, supposed to be heading out with us too?"

1265 nodded his head. "Yeah, he'll be here, he's tying up some loose ends regarding his transfer. He said he would meet us at the ship."

Ddraig looked over his shoulder, then spoke in a hushed tone, "You know, I heard something from a friend that works in Internal Security, at Imperial Center. Danlin Falker, TD1344, was a Captain and Commander of a covert Recon and Assault unit until he got busted down to Stormtrooper and reassigned."

Danz asked, "What'd he do?"

Ddraig shook his head, "I'm not sure. My friend said when he went looking for more details, all that information was marked classified. Whatever it was, he made the wrong person angry. He's shipping out for his new assignment on this flight with us."

Taka looked them over a bit as memories of his own reassignment after Belliran V resurfaced in his thoughts. "OK, let me see your ID holo tags." They all leaned in closer and pulled out their dog tags. As he scanned them, he realized they were all assigned to the same flight he had been scheduled for. He was getting a new post assignment, very hush-hush, no information offered as to destination, but a new destination nonetheless.

A new assignment would be a welcome thing. This office was definitely a dead-end. "Looks like we'll be flying together for awhile. You guys are on the same ship out as me. Unfortunately it won't be a shuttle. We've been bumped to a small cargo ship. Let me grab my things and we can walk out there together, my shift here is just about over."

*

Danlin Falker, with gear and rifle slung over his shoulder, raced out of the front of the administration building adjacent to Imperial Center. He ran through the crowds across the open plaza toward the loaded air taxi as it rose from its boarding stall and slipped into the congested lanes of traffic in the late afternoon sky. It had been that kind of day to be sure, he thought, as he threw off his gear bag and sat down, bucket in hand, on a bench to wait for the next taxi.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as the events of the past few days replayed over and over in his head and faint memories of the past crept out. He barely remembered being here so many years ago as a child, before the truth about his uncle had been exposed and his family had paid the price for it. When he was eight, his mother had entrusted him with the information that his uncle was a Jedi Knight. He idolized his uncle, and was eager to become a Jedi himself. Unfortunately, a low midichlorian count had prevented him from joining the order.

It was during the failed Jedi attempt to seize power of the Republic and overthrow his Excellency, Chancellor Palpatine, that his uncle was killed while trying to assassinate a group of senior Clone officers. He was stunned by the news and both saddened and angered that his dead uncle was a traitor against the Republic. Between this and the bitterness he felt from being denied his own entry for training, he lost all faith in the Jedi and their ways.

The family business was seized, and all privileges stripped from them. His mother swore it was not because of their association with the Jedi, but he knew in his heart that his uncle had betrayed them. Indeed, all of the Jedi had betrayed the very people they were sworn to protect. It had become a very dark time to live in the Republic, and darker still if you were associated in any way with the Jedi.

He remembered attending the schools here on Coruscant, before his family had been forced to move to Nar Shadda, and a life far away from their ties with the Jedi. Life was hard on Nar Shadda, but he somehow managed to secure a decent education and was ultimately accepted into the Imperial Naval Academy on Carida, under an assumed name. He worked hard and displayed a sharp mind and a keen sense of both military and unconventional tactics. Following his uneventful graduation, he had been assigned to the 35th Planetary Assault Squadron.

Following a promotion, he became a detachment leader specializing in recon, boarding, and neutralization of orbital defense platforms. It was not until just a standard week ago, when during a background inquiry performed by his CO, that his true name was discovered.

He had lied to the Academy entry board, his troops and his superiors, and his family had known ties to a traitorous Jedi. Still, his service record was exemplary and his loyalty to the Empire unswerving. Senior Command agreed, following a passed Internal Security Bureau loyalty test, he would be allowed to continue serving, but would be demoted, stripped of his command and reassigned to the ranks of the Stormtrooper corps. Now, just days later, he sat in the dirty armor he had trained in, waiting for an air taxi to take him to a ship that would connect him to his new assignment. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes as he heard another taxi approaching.

He gathered his gear and moved closer to the edge of the boarding platform as the large vehicle slowed and settled alongside the gated stall. There were no others waiting as the gates opened, and he made his way into the crowded lower level. With barely even standing room available there, he decided to go up the stairs to the open, upper deck. There were only a handful of others up there; a few couples enjoying the cool air and the romantic sunset.

There were many comfortable seats there, and he found one along the handrail of the outer edge, put down his things and sat. There was the familiar sounding of the two low tones, and the entry gates closed as the taxi glided away from Imperial Center. The air was cooling off a bit, after a hot day, and the sun was setting in a beautiful tapestry of color and light that painted the Coruscant sky. The wind lifted his hair and made him squint as the large vehicle slipped through the travel lanes and headed a bit further out toward the shipyards and the large waterfront estates of the rich beyond them.

The cool air and silence was just what he needed to clear his head before he shipped out. Ahead, a tall, narrow docking tower rose up to the travel lane from the shipyards below. He pressed a small button on the handrail, indicating a stop there was needed, grabbed his gear and made his way down the stairs again. The air vehicle slowed and glided to a gentle stop alongside the tower. The two tones sounded and the gates opened. He stepped out to the durasteel platform.

The tones sounded again, the gates closed behind him and the air taxi moved away, leaving him in silence, except for the whipping of the wind. The view from this height was both dizzying and amazing. The tall structures of Imperial City had been left behind, and the massive, open expanse of the shipyards now stretched out beneath him, filled with ships arriving, departing, boarding and unloading.

He felt the tower sway somewhat as he stepped into the turbolift and selected the button for the ground-level of the shipyard below. The lift dropped quickly toward the duracrete far below, as there were no stops along the spindly tower. He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath; held it for a few seconds, then let it out slowly. Another tone sounded as the lift stopped. The doors opened and Falker stepped out onto the wide expanse of the Imperial Shipyards.

* * *

I was awakened by the clattering of Impervium on the deck plates. I jerked my head up and squinted in the direction of the noise. A tall trooper was clipping his rifle into the center rack at the back of the row on the opposite side from me. His dropped bucket was slowly rocking on the floor at his feet. It was scarred with a single blast mark singed across the left eyepiece. I closed my eyes, squeezed them tight and opened them again as they adjusted to the light streaming in the rear hatch.

We were in a hangar bay somewhere. The DL-997 Cargo-Loading 'Droid switched off its' shoulder-mounted flood lamps as it finished securing a supply crate further back in the hold. It then retreated down the inclined ramp into the hangar bay outside. It was then that I noticed a modified version of a 2-legged AT-ST just outside.

I lifted my bucket up and flipped on the chin switch for the navigational pane as the new guy stowed his gear. The tiny display showed a rotating Star Destroyer schematic and flashed the name, _**Leviathan**_.

Immediately to the right of that display, a star chart snapped on and rotated, then closed in on the Talus sector. I had only been sleeping a short time. The Talus system was not very far from Anoat. I glanced back at the new guy and nodded in his direction as we momentarily locked eyes. He nodded back as I spoke. "I'm Deckard, TD-2187. Welcome aboard."

"TD-6829, Topolev Mayevkin", he said as he shoved his bucket back under the jumpseat beside his bag. He sat and fastened his restraints as I had, with a heavy breath and closed his eyes. Desert trooper, I thought, as my eyes slowly drifted shut once more. The boarding ramp raised and the hatch sealed. I was spiraling back into my dreams as the engines roared to life and we streaked away from the _**Leviathan**_.

After comm-linking to the Harbormaster, Falker finally found his ship. It sat dwarfed between two enormous ships; on one side by a Super Star Destroyer that was being gutted and refitted and on the other by a Heavy Freighter, a new arrival that was busily being unloaded. He had been on some small transports before, but this was probably the smallest, and definitely not the shuttle he was expecting, but rather a small cargo transport, already loaded down with caged livestock and farming supplies.

Taka, Ddraig, Danz and 1265 were all focusing their attentions around the Resolute Servant and a squad of intriguing Twi 'Lek dancers from Rhen Var. They stood amongst crates and supplies, playing with their Lekku and smiling as they talked with the eagerly assembled troops.

The ground crew was busy unloading the rest of the ship's cargo. There were crates and livestock everywhere. Among the deliveries were several caged Ysalimari for delivery to the office of the Emperor, along with hundreds of Ch'hala Trees to be planted in the main chamber of the Grand Corridor at the Imperial Palace.

"Hey guys, I'm TD-1344, Danlin Falker. Is this thing my transport?"

The others laughed and the Twi 'Leks smiled as Taka spoke up, "Hello 1344, I'm TK-2953, Taka, and yeah, this little thing is our ship; looks like we got the aromatic section."

Falker shook his head and closed his eyes as the pilot walked down from inside, "Is this the guy?"

Taka looked up at him, "Yeah, this is the guy we were waiting on. Let's get the rest of this gear loaded and get out of here." He turned back to the dancers, "Sorry ladies, it's time for us to head out."

* * *

It was dark and quiet where we were, in the cargo hold, save the constant high-pitched whine of the engines. I was unstrapped and watching our slow approach to a small planet with several moons in close orbits. We had navigated around the fringes of a moderately sized asteroid field and now finally we were passing through a thin, vaporous cloud band of cosmic dust. My helmet navigation panel flickered to life, throwing off a bluish glow inside. I turned and glanced over at it in the darkness, sitting on the floor in front of my gear bag.

The blue glow was reflecting off the metal deck plate from under the black-trimmed edges of the bone-white, armored helmet. There was also a faint glow visible through the dark eye lenses creating an eerie, ghostly appearance. I slid out of the gunner's seat and knelt on the cold deck, lifting it up to see what it had to offer. As I rolled it over and peered inside, the information display screen was populating. Ralltiir was the name of this place. I glanced into the back of the hold. Topolev was still asleep.

I moved back to the gunner's chair, holding my helmet and looking once again through the port. We followed a path that carried us through bright bands of warming light reaching out from the central star in this system; silently streaming through the heavens to finally filter through the translucent veil of dust which surrounded us.

Our approach eventually moved us beyond the reaches of the orange starlight and into the eclipsing shadow thrown by the planet itself, high above the portion of the surface that was covered in the liquid darkness of night. Then, like a stalking predator in the shadows, the lights of a silent, circling, darkened Star Destroyer suddenly appeared out of the camouflaging darkness of the endless starfield as we cruised past heading for the base on Ralltiir.

Faint lights on the planet below flickered, twinkled and grew brighter as we entered the atmosphere. Immediately, the smooth ride of the shuttle was interrupted by the jarring turbulence of the air, now buffeting against the wide flat wings and the hull of our craft. From the direction of the cockpit I heard a crackling request for security code clearance.

There was a lot of interference, as if someone else was transmitting on top of our military frequencies. There were moments of coarse static bursts, and then garbled words and electronic tones streaming over the ground crew transmission. The pilot complied, sending out the ship's electronic signature. As he did so, an information screen appeared on the other end of the comm line in front of the ground crew member at the base displaying our ship type and specifications.

Moments later as the static disappeared from the comm channel, we were cleared for landing at the base. The pilot switched on the forward-projecting approach lights and adjusted his thermal sensor settings as our ship descended blindly into a thick fog. I could see nothing, just swirling clouds. Then faintly, I saw a few lights and finally, the barest of outlines of several buildings and towers. They were only visible as slightly darker shades of grey against the white mists of the dense fog. The extended gear touched down in a small designated landing zone near the southern perimeter of the expansive spacefield.

Topolev was awake now too, and we both unclipped our harnesses as the pilot powered down the reactor and the engines fell silent. "We must be staying here for a while", I said, standing.

Topolev responded, looking around the hold as the wall-mounted, battery-powered lights kicked in, "It certainly looks that way", as he leaned over and grabbed his bucket. I picked mine up too, and walked the corridor toward the rear ramp and the spacefield outside.

Topolev stepped into the aisle in front of me as the pilot came down from the cockpit, "Hey Deckard, how's the ride so far?"

I laughed, "Not too bad, Riggs, if you like the smooth, core-system refinement of a snobby commercial-liner pilot." I ducked as he threw his gloves at me, laughing. I had known Riggs since I had been assigned on Anoat. He was flying the shuttle that had delivered me and the others to that swampy, mudhole of a planet. It was fitting that he was the one flying me out of it.

He jokingly shoved me into Topolev as he spoke, "Oh, I'm so sorry." He backpedaled and pulled away as I took a mock swing at his head.

Topolev laughed and moved out the hatch, stepping onto the ramp. There was a deafening blast and a violent rocking of the shuttle as an expanding fireball washed over us and we were thrown backwards to the deck. The lowered portion of the ramp we were on had exploded, shredding and twisting the plank into a mangled ruin. We were under attack! Suddenly we weren't laughing, we were scrambling for our clipped-in rifles, and pulling our buckets on. My ears were ringing from the blast and my heart was racing, "Topolev, you OK?", I yelled.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to need a new chestpiece, though", as he indicated a hand-sized piece of shrapnel from the ramp partially embedded in the Impervium.

Riggs reached up, pulled a DLT-19 from one of the crates and powered it on. Smoke poured into the ship and sirens blared as another, stronger explosion rocked it, throwing us across the hold into the wall and scattering us on the deck. One of the main rear landing gear assemblies had been hit, and the heavy shuttle groaned and listed to one side as the damaged gear folded and collapsed beneath us in a tangle of bent, stressed metal.

The wing-mounted dual repeater cannon on the damaged side spewed a shower of sparks and suddenly opened fire, spitting non-stop, repeating blasts of energy beams horizontally across the landing area, sawing through the tops of the grey tree outlines on the fringe of the clearing beyond.

The adrenaline was coursing through each of us as we tried to get an assessment of what was going on. None of us could see through the smoke or the fog for that matter. I yelled to be heard over the explosions and blaster fire occurring outside, "If we stay in here much longer, somebody's gonna be pulling spare armor parts off our dead bodies by morning."

Topolev switched on his thermal imaging and scanned the spacefield outside. "You're right about that! There are no nearby targets, though, must be snipers. The firing is coming from beyond the edge of the field. There's a troop transport speeder we can take cover behind just outside and to the right, if we can just get to it. Switch on your thermal imaging."

A blaster shot from across the field vaporized a hole through the twisted surface of the ramp just in front of Riggs' un-armored leg, and he yelled, "Well, we can't stay here any longer, let's go!" The three of us charged down the remnants of the ramp and leaped to the duracrete deck, blasters firing. We stayed clear of the repeating cannon blasts, still firing into the darkness of the trees. Several blasts crisscrossed in front of us from the cover of the thick, mist-laden foliage.

Troops now streamed out of the base buildings on the far edge of the field, running across the paved surface firing red, blue and green blasts of superfocused energy through the fog. I heard the moisture in the air vaporize as I squeezed off several shots. We all threw ourselves back-first against the armored transport, as several waves of troopers joined us, firing on an unseen enemy out there in the mist. "Who's shooting at us?" yelled Topolev.

One of the base troopers took cover with us behind the transport, blaster rifle raised up beside his head and breathing heavy from his sprint across the field. "They're rebels. They've been under surveillance since we arrived here. We suspected that sympathizers were gathering here with friends on the High Council. Now we know." and he fired off several shots around the rear of the transport. "I'm 4120, welcome to Ralltiir." He stood and ran off the edge of the landing pad into the grass, joining a group of other troopers, his repeating rifle blasting away at anything that moved.

Topolev and I looked over at Riggs. He was armed, but not armored. "Riggs, you need to stay here, you have no armor, no protection", I said.

He nodded and waved us on. I went around the rear, Topolev around the front of the transport, firing as we ran to catch up with the base troops, with Riggs providing covering fire. We jumped over the corpses of several troopers that had been cut down in the charge as another explosion rocked the shuttle behind us. I glanced back as I ran. She was now lying completely over on her side.

When we reached the edge of the trees that lined the clearing, many of the troops were pursuing the fleeing rebels into the dense, foggy forest. 4120 was following a group of about six rebels that had broken off from the main group and had disappeared down an embankment. We broke left, following him through the tall, damp grass down the slope to a dry creek bed. The scurry of footprints in the dirt led away to the left, and we ran to catch up.

We came around a bend in the miniature ravine just as 4120 blasted a gaping hole through the torso of one of the rebels, throwing her to the ground in a lifeless heap. There were several others lying on the ground with similar wounds. The two remaining fugitives fled wildly into the woods trying in vain to escape their deaths, yelling at each other, "Where was he? He was supposed to be on that shuttle!" We blasted into the darkness at them. Topolev took one out, and when his comrade turned to look back at his friend, I took him out too. Then there was a moment of silence, and the thick smell of ozone.

Faint blaster fire could be heard echoing through the woods and then silence. 4120 set down his rifle and then pulled off his bucket, as he turned to examine his injured left hand, which was dangling from the end of his armored forearm gauntlet. I pulled off my bucket, "Are you OK?"

He cursed in Iridonian and then answered, "Yeah, I'm fine. A shot just grazed me", as he grabbed the spinning hand and pulled it off with a quick jerk.

"GRAZED you?" said Topolev. 4120 held it up for us to see closer. Thin metal guides and wires protruded from the charred black "skin" surrounding the wound.

"It's OK, it's cybernetic." He saw the question on our faces, and stopped us, "It's a long story. Suffice it to say I got a, uh, nasty infection and had to cut off my own hand before it spread."

We slowly nodded and spoke at the same time, "Yeah, OK, Sure."

He slapped Topolev on the shoulder, "Come on, let's head back."

Smoke rose from the corpses lying in the sandy creek bed as we turned to make our way back to the base. It was beginning to grow lighter as we stepped out of the thick grass onto the landing pad. A group of 'droids were extinguishing the fires on the shuttle. Other maintenance 'droids working on the ship must have disconnected power to the rogue cannon, as it was now silenced. As we drew nearer, we saw Riggs sitting on what remained of a wing, being attended by a medical 'droid.

"You OK? What Happened?" asked Topolev.

The injured pilot looked up, "I'm OK, but won't be flying anytime real soon. The cannon must have overheated. The 'droids are telling me the firing mechanism jammed, causing an explosion. I felt something slap me across the back and knock me off me feet. I tried to reach up to the transport to help myself up, but I couldn't raise my arm. When I looked over at it, part of the red-hot gun nozzle was sticking through my shoulder. That's it there." He said, pointing with his good arm. The medical 'droid raised one of its' arms, showing us the discolored metal pipe held tight in the pincers. "Luckily, the thing was so hot, it cauterized the wound immediately, otherwise, I'd be dead."

I knelt down beside him, "Take it easy, Riggs. They'll fix you up and you'll be flying again before you know it." He nodded as I stood, and the medical 'droid continued its' work. Topolev and I stepped past them and climbed over the twisted metal into the hold. The ship now lay on its side, everything blackened from the smoke. We climbed over the bulkhead, which was now the deck. Our gear had been thrown toward the sloping nose. I moved forward and grabbed a bag and a pack, checked them, threw them to Topolev and then grabbed mine.

"MU-40 there'll take good care of you. Good sedatives, huh?" 4120 was saying to Riggs as we made our way out of the wreckage. "After he looks at you, I'm gonna need a tune-up myself" he said, holding up his severed hand.

The med 'droid's head servos swiveled his optical sensors around to inspect the damage, then it spoke, "Again, 4120?"

The dirtied base trooper laughed, "Come on guys, I'll find you a place to stash your gear until we get a new transport. I'm outta here with you when you leave. My transfer came through 2 days ago, and I think you guys are my ride."

The MU, medical unit, and another 'droid were loading Riggs onto a repulsor sled as we headed toward the base. It was almost light now, and through the light mist, running along the far side of the base, I saw a river. The waters were quiet and calm, flowing along as if nothing had happened; completely unaffected. Great, I thought to myself, more water. "I can't wait to get outta here."

*

Tiny wisps of white smoke curled up from 4120's wrist as the med 'droid carefully removed the cauterized remains of the charred, synthetic 'flesh' with a low powered energy beam. 4120 watched closely as the 'droid cleaned the wrist stump with a jet of water, until all traces of the cybernetic hand were gone, save the guide rods, ball joint and multiple flexor-cords sticking out from the durasteel cap that covered the end of what was left of his arm.

The 'droid swiveled to face him, "4120, soak that in this container of bacta while I prepare the new prosthetic."

The trooper complied as the 'droid swiveled again to a case on another bench. It released the small clasps on the front of the small, metallic crate and lifted the hinged lid. Inside were six compartments for identical synthetic hands. One of the compartments was empty, most likely for the one that had just been destroyed. The 'droid gently retrieved one of the remaining five hands and closed the lid of the case, securing the clasps.

It swiveled around to 4120 and brought the hand up before his face, "You only have five left, including this one".

The trooper chuckled, trying to keep a straight face and not knock over the bacta.

"I'm not joking, 4120. I won't be there to fix you from now on. Your record shows that you are transferring out to another group. You will need to watch me carefully as I reconnect these fittings and wrap the synthetic flesh, so you can do it in the future the next time you do this to yourself. And yes, I know there WILL be a next time!" The trooper laughed again, as the droid put down the hand and raised the soaking stump out of the bacta.

A jetted appendage extended from the shaft of the 'droid's arm and air was blown over the stump to dry it thoroughly. Once finished, it lifted the hand and positioned the socket over the ball joint on the stump. A release pin was pulled out slightly, and the socket slipped down over the ball. When it was confirmed to be in place, the pin was released, snapping back into place as a retainer, keeping the socket from slipping out of its' new, seated position. The droid then set to work attaching the flexor-cords to the tiny connectors on the structure of the hand. 4120 was watching closely. He knew all too well that he would be doing this to himself someday.

I turned away from the transparisteel panel and walked out of the doorway, down a small corridor and lay back on my assigned bunk. Topolev was asleep in the one beside it. I closed my eyes as I waited for 4120 to be finished. Riggs was undergoing surgery, and would most likely be fine, but he wouldn't be taking us on the rest of our flight, that's for sure. We would need another ship as well.

My head was pounding. I couldn't stop thinking about the rebels who had attacked us, wondering what their objective had been. They had expected someone else? Had we gotten in the way of something? Our shuttle arrival, with two troopers of no consequence would hardly warrant an attack the likes of what we had just seen.

4120 walked in as I sat pondering the events of our arrival. He was rubbing his wrist, and flexing the new hand. "I just heard that our task force leader, Lord Tion, has arranged for another shuttle. He's pulling a pilot familiar with some of the destination ports from field duty now to take us the rest of the way on our flight. Lord Vader will be arriving soon to inspect the Interrogation Camps . . . ."

That was it! The rebels must have been expecting Vader instead of us to have been arriving on the shuttle. We had walked into the middle of an assassination attempt. Sever the head of the Rancor and the body dies. But surely they couldn't have thought the Emperor would have been traveling with Vader. I realized 4120 had continued talking as I had drifted deeper into my thoughts, drowning him out. I had missed most of what he had said, but he was still talking.

". . . and Tion has just received new intelligence that shows a dignitary will be arriving later today for a meeting with the High Council. They were eliminated when we stormed the council chambers. I'm sure Tion will want the visitor brought here and detained for search and interrogation."

The MU-40 'droid moved past 4120 and placed the case of cybernetic appendages on his bunk along with another case of medical supplies and tools. "Take Care, 4120, take care", and it turned and left.

4120 shifted his eyes from the new hand to me, "I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat." I nodded; it had been a while since I had eaten real food. I roused Topolev from his sleep and we followed 4120 out of the barracks and down a corridor to the mess.

We each grabbed a tray and began selecting food as we spoke. "So how long have you been here?" I asked.

4120 spoke without looking back, "About 45 of the local standard days. We were brought in when it was discovered that members of the High council were rebel sympathizers and allowing rebels to assemble here, gathering their forces. Ralltiir is a technology-driven society." He put a hot plate of steak on his tray and licked the thick sauce he had spilled on his finger. "We were given specific instructions to strip their technology from them and leave their world in ruins, begging for the mercy of the Empire. Tion was all too eager to comply, to the very letter of our orders."

We sat at a table facing a large pane of transparisteel overlooking the landing deck. I had followed 4120's lead and taken a plate of the meat. It was very good and tasted like a dish I had once tried on Cicarpous IV, near Mimban. Topolev had a large plate of exotic-looking, multi-colored vegetation, well-steamed. I could see troops patrolling the perimeter of the deck, watching the woods, blasters at the ready.

Our shuttle wreckage had already been cleared from the field. Topolev spoke with a mouth full, "How's the hand?"

4120 nodded as he chewed and swallowed a mouthful of steak, "Perfect, see?" he said as he flexed the fingers in and out twice. On the deck outside, a shuttle similar to our own landed as we continued eating. Several of the ground crew attended to various points along the undercarriage as the front ramp lowered to the ground and a passenger walked down and exited; a passenger in a black helmet, black armor and robes. Lord Vader had arrived on Ralltiir. I continued eating and watched as he was escorted into an armored speeder, being taken to review the interrogation camps.

*

Above the surface of Ralltiir, a consular ship was making her approach when TIE fighter escorts appeared from the far side of the planet and intercepted her. They surrounded the ship as communication was finally achieved with the lead TIE pilot.

"TIE Squadron leader, this is Captain Raymus Antilles of the _**Tantive IV**_, acting on behalf of the royal house of Alderaan. We are en route to Grallia Spaceport on a diplomatic mission for a meeting with members of the High Council and are not to be detained."

The TIE pilot responded, "Captain, you will not be proceeding to Grallia Spaceport, as it now exists only as ruins, as does the High Council. You will follow us to a newly established Imperial base for search and interrogation. This system is now restricted, immunity or not, by Order of Lord Vader and Lord Tion."

The TIE fighters crossed the nose of the diplomatic ship as she adjusted her course headings to follow their lead toward the new Imperial beacon being sent out from the impromptu military spaceport below. Antilles worried about the cargo they were secretly transporting for the High Council. They were loaded down with field surgical units, medipaks, medical 'droids and more. If the ship were to be searched . . .

*

4120 secured his personal items and medical equipment in the large, standard issue gearbag like mine. Topolev was making a few adjustments to his new chestplate when a scout entered the room, "Your new shuttle's ready, guys; outside, ready to go." Topolev grabbed his bag and bucket as did I, and 4120 made one last sweep of his bunk area before he slung the bag over his shoulder and the three of us made our way down the corridor, past the communications room and out to the flight deck.

It was almost dark. The local days were a lot shorter than what I was used to. We boarded the shuttle and secured ourselves and our gear as a duty-scarred Corellian corvette prepared to set down on the far side of the deck. Her TIE escorts had left her now, as she lowered herself to a landing.

None of us even noticed her arrival as the rear hatches on our shuttle closed and pressurized. The new pilot lifted off and we climbed once more toward the massive expanse of the stars above.

* * *

Our new pilot, Lt. Tank, hadn't been very forthcoming with any details of our extended flight plan. About the only thing he had said was that our course was being dictated by Imperial Command on Coruscant as we flew, so there was no hope of using the hyperdrive engines. We had to remain in contact with them. He was very young, a recent recruit that, for whatever reason, hadn't made the cut as a fighter pilot.

The kid had skills, or he wouldn't be flying a shuttle, he'd be cooking in the mess. He had plenty of time to grow into a fighter pilot. Flying this shuttle was earning him good flight time experience, even if that training meant we spent a lot more time in flight than necessary. We had been en route at sub-light speeds for what seemed an eternity now.

Tank came over the comm with an announcement, "We've just been directed to make a course change and head to Denon Station. It's only a small deviation. There's a freighter on its way there from Coruscant with five troopers that need to connect with this flight."

4120 rolled his eyes and Topolev shifted uncomfortably in his seat as I rubbed my temples, "This flight just kept getting better and better."

* * *

Denon Station turned out to be quite a beautiful place. It was situated in a sparse belt of asteroids orbiting near the planet Denon, not far from Corellia, near where the Corellian Way and the Hydian Way intersect. The series of stations had been constructed around a central core of asteroid.

Having docked some time ago, we grew impatient as we waited on the freighter from Coruscant.

4120 and I sat with buckets off at a small table overlooking our shuttle and the landing bays below as Topolev waited at a window for our food. 4120 put down his drink and stared out at the adjacent station and the darkness of the stars beyond. I put my drink down and asked him, "So, are you going to tell me about cutting off your hand? What really happened?"

He shifted a bit in his seat, and then spoke as he rubbed his left wrist, "It's been quite a few years now. It started with a trip to visit my Twi'Lek girlfriend's uncle. He had been called in to help decipher ancient Iridonian artifacts unearthed on a dig expedition near the great pyramids there. I had been called in to recover a specific piece for the Hutts."

Topolev walked over with our food. I turned to him, "He's explaining how he lost his hand. Please go on." We started to eat as we listened.

"We made it to Iridonia without incident, and located her uncle. I was amazed at the items they had recovered, ancient battle armor, early vibroblades, several jeweled bowls and an odd-looking book of flimsies which pre-dated even holocrons. Her uncle had identified it as an early Sith writing, a book bound in Rancor hide and written in blood. It detailed burial rites, funerary chants and other Sith rituals used for laying slain masters to rest. As we all know, with the Sith, there are only two.

The ancient Sith order were many in number and were narrowed by greed and their quest for power to only two, a master and an apprentice. This book chronicled the lives and deaths of the ancient Sith masters and contained many of their secrets. We were in the main tent of the dig one evening. My girlfriend and I were looking at the artifacts as her uncle read through several passages he was translating. As he carefully opened the yellowed pages, he uncovered a small compartment buried in the center of the book, but as he opened it, he was consumed in a white light.

Without thinking, my Twi'Lek rushed to grab the book away and help him. She was caught up in the blaze. I reached out to stop her and it started into me as well. I let go of her and watched helplessly as they were both incinerated and turned to dust. It was only then that I realized it was eating into my hand. I grabbed one of the ancient vibrocutters on the next table and severed my hand at the wrist to keep the reaction from spreading up my arm and avoid dying. With the vibrocutter I closed the book and the reaction seemed to be stopped."

I noticed a small cargo ship landing below on the platform not far from our shuttle as he spoke, but I kept my attention on him.

"I cinched my wrist and gathered the book into a small container, sealed it and fled. I wasn't sure what to do. I knew I had to get rid of it, but it was a power far too dangerous for gangsters like the Hutts to wield. I located an elder in a neighboring settlement. His med 'droids fixed my hand and he helped me undergo an ancient rite, one that involved reading of ancient texts, burning incense and ritualistic body tattooing. At the end of the week-long process, I was rendered a spiritual messenger, free to transport the book without fear of its horrible power. I had paid my respects to the source from which it had come.

The Hutt, however, was furious. He thought I had fled the planet, keeping the book for myself, and put a contract out on my life. I joined the Empire and became a nameless, faceless Stormtrooper, evading capture. I journeyed to Coruscant and was granted a meeting with Emperor Palpatine. It was there that I turned the book over to him. As a reward, I was offered a place in the 501st Legion to serve Lord Vader; my loyalty having already been proven. What started as a way to hide turned into a love for what I do. I've been on the front line ever since, and have gone through a few incarnations of cybernetic hands. The one you saw is the most recent and most realistic one so far."

Topolev finished the last of his food as 4120 finished speaking, "Pretty amazing story. How much of it is B.S.?" and he laughed.

4120 laughed as he drank, "Laugh if you like, that's the truth."

I swallowed the last of my drink, "I think the others are here", and I pointed to the bay below as I gathered up my trash. Several troopers were emptying out of the cargo ship. We all grabbed our buckets and headed for the lift.

*

The new troops were unloading their gear as we came walking up. "So you guys are joining us, huh?" said Topolev.

1344 leaned toward him and grabbed his hand, shaking it as he responded, "That's right. Let me tell you, your shuttle looks great after the flight we just had, shoved in with cargo and livestock." Ddraig, Danz, Taka, 1265 and Falker all shook hands with us as we helped them haul their gear into the hold area. Tank brought the engines online and prepared for lift-off as we all strapped in. He lifted us off the deck and set a course away from Denon Station that would take us through Hutt space.

* * *

We had all been talking a bit, exchanging some stories of past missions and assignments to break the ice and the monotony of this flight. I closed my eyes, as more thoughts from the past churned through my mind; vivid, overlapping images from Dantooine, Mimban and Anoat. I was wondering if my old detachment members had found Moff Rebus yet. Rebus was an eccentric weapons specialist that had been working for the Empire since the Clone Wars.

After designing the Superlaser for the secretive Death Star project he had disappeared. Many thought he had suffered the same fate as the battle stations chief design team, but recently, Intelligence intercepted information indicating he had constructed a hidden stronghold located deep beneath the sewage systems of Anoat City.

While our primary mission had been to infiltrate and take control of the planet and its capital city, we were also part of a much smaller group searching for the elusive Rebus. Memories and images washed through my mind of the dark, foul-smelling caverns and sewers. Searching for a way into Anoat City, a way to surprise the inhabitants and quickly overtake them. And thoughts of even darker missions . . . grisly rescue missions, exploring amidst the dead for survivors inside starships that had crashed into the vast oceans, casualties of the numerous battles above the planet.

The worst were the missions searching for Rebus, beneath the sewers, deep in the caves in complete darkness working with infrared bucket visor panels and the swarming lizard-ants from that one mission, all over us; inside our armor. I awoke with a start, realizing I had momentarily drifted off.

The ship rocked as something struck the hull with a hollow, wrenching sound. We all unclipped and moved forward for a look. The pilot lifted the nose to avoid more of the small floating debris. As he lowered it back on course, we were all amazed at what lay ahead. Volumes were spoken in our silence.

Ahead was the final resting place of three dead, imploded stars. We were on the edge of a place each of us had heard of since childhood as a place to avoid.

We were approaching . . . the Maw.

For centuries, folk stories had been told throughout the galaxy, in millions of languages, about the lost ships and their crews that were pulled into the powerful, spiraling vortex whose gravitational pull sucked in even light if it dared venture too close. The chain reaction death of three stars in close orbit around each other had created this treacherous navigational nightmare.

The navigation panes in all of our buckets simultaneously blipped on as we passed within transmission range for the settlement ahead. Not one of us bothered to look at it, we knew where we were. There was a medium-sized moon, just outside the pull of the gravity well and quite devoid of life, save an Imperial base and its' inhabitants.

It had been left in that desolate state after the cataclysmic supernova explosions, subsequent implosions and the howling solar winds from a thousand generations ago ravaging across its surface as they were sucked down into the bottomless black pit of the Maw. We, however, were not heading for the dead moon, but rather the smaller, frozen asteroid that now lay between us and it.

We were headed for Kessel.

An equal number of folk stories existed about this place, but for reasons far, far darker. The Kessel moon was the site of an Imperial base that once housed an entire Garrison to oversee the nearby asteroid mining facility and one of the most feared and brutal Imperial prisons in the known galaxy. For all condemned, a trip to the containment facility at the spice mines of Kessel was a one way affair.

In most posts, you saw the good, the bad, and the horrific. The inmate population on Kessel was the collected masses of the truly horrific from every corner of the galaxy. Most every known violent, anti-social and deviant behavior was well represented here. Guards were generally rotated around the prison after two standard years to keep the staff sharp and unforgiving.

The asteroid, on which the prison was built, was too small to possess even enough gravity to hold on to anything bit a very thin atmosphere, too thin to sustain life. Imperial engineers had installed numerous atmospheric generator facilities which endlessly blasted out streams of breathable air across the surface of the lifeless rock. It slowly slipped away from the surface, venting out into the vastness of the stars like life-support gases streaming from a crippled starship with a breach in its hull.

As a result, the surface air was breathable, barely, but the miner-inmates and their Stormtrooper guards down in the mine shafts had to wear re-breather masks and oxygen cells at all times to keep from passing out. Inmates and guards alike were issued only one mask and one cell per day, to ensure no hording of oxygenation equipment.

Distant starlight broke around the edge of the nearby Garrison moon as we began our approach, skimming the lifeless surface of the asteroid.

We had received the transmission from the identifier beacon, but as far as I could tell, there had been no communication with anyone at the facility. The cockpit had been quiet. The shuttle flew low over the alkali flats and climbed abruptly to avoid a low mountain range. It was then that we saw the only surface evidence of inhabitants; an empty landing deck, starkly jutting out from the steep walls of the mountains ahead.

We maneuvered around to line up with the deck below as the lower wings folded up and the landing gear lowered. Slowly, we descended through the magnetic Atmospheric Retention Shield to the landing pad beneath us on the dark side of Kessel. As the engines wound down, we prepared to disembark. We all had buckets in hand as the airlock seals at the rear hatch de-pressurized. Taka said he was going to stay behind and work on his rifle.

The access ramp lowered as Topolev turned to me joking, "You can go down the ramp first this time!" and he rapped on his new chest armor plate.

Our pilot left the cockpit and followed us down to the outside deck. The silence was absolutely deafening. We all looked around for other troopers, some sign of life, and there was none. I looked up the side of the mountain to the stars beyond, then down to our shuttle and past it to the expansive Alkali flats we had crossed on our approach. Further in the distance, like a waiting trap, lay the swirling Maw with the Garrison moon orbiting somewhere in between.

After glancing around, we crossed the deck heading for the shield doors that led inside the facility. No one seemed to know or care that we were there. Danz spoke up, "They probably don't get too many visitors. I guess few, if any people voluntarily come to Kessel."

"Yeah", said Ddraig as he looked around. We had almost made it to the doors when another small craft gently pushed through the magnetic membrane of the shield above us and set down beside our ship. It was a small craft, a 'droid-piloted Payload Retrieval ship with spider-like arms encircling its hull. They were designed for recovering any cargo floating about after a ship was damaged or destroyed. As we watched it touch down, the shield doors behind us opened and several troopers walked through followed by a slower, portly Rybet who ordered them to unload the 'droid ship's cargo.

They moved a floating repulsor sled alongside the small craft and opened several well-concealed hatches, exposing the recovered items inside as the Rybet turned, looking us over. In a slimy, guttural voice he demanded, "Who are you?", his nostrils flaring. Lt. Tank pushed past us, taking the Rybet by the arm and turning him away from us, speaking quietly, "I have been directed here by Imperial Command on Coruscant to pick up two troopers for reassignment. Who are you?"

"I am Moruth Doole, prisoner trustee and the most powerful person in this system beside the Warden, Commander Kluskine." There was a crash as a small crate fell to the deck. Doole whipped his head around, "Be careful with that, you know it can't be exposed to the light or it's useless to me!" He slowly turned back to our pilot, "The only thing I like better than making a killing by selling Spice, is making another killing by selling it again a second time! Ha ha ha! One of the last starships out dumped her shipment when one of my ships in the blockade threatened to board her."

His voice trailed off, and he stared off into the darkness of the empty hallway as if he were speaking only to himself now, "I know a special customer who will not be so very happy with Captain Solo." The small band of duty-worn troopers pushed the full sled away from the small ship toward the open shield doors.

Our pilot handed Doole a small, thin data card, "Here are the reassignment orders."

"Come inside", said Doole, "everyone, come inside while I locate these men." The ground shook hard beneath our feet.

4120 looked around, "What the . . . "

Doole spoke up quickly, "Just tremors from the deep core blasting . . . nothing to worry about. We're directly above the prison and mining operations. They're several levels down, through a number of security checkpoints. This is the way we bring in new arrivals. You'll get to see firsthand what it's like so you can tell others how you survived a stop at the Kessel Spice Mines", and he waddled off through the doors.

"I'll alert Commander Kluskine and let him know you're here. Ever been to Kessel, boys?" We all shook our heads no as we followed him further along the corridor.

The stony walls which had been smooth near the shield doors were now uneven and jagged and blood-stained. As I walked, I noticed fingernails and claws stuck in the discolored rocks from the hands of those who had been dragged in, screaming and fighting.

"The evil and darkness that lives in the hearts of the inmates here have robbed this place of any warmth, any soul. It gets to you after a while", he chuckled, "I should know. I worked the darkness of the deepest mineshafts for over twenty years."

I suddenly felt that if these dark, stone corridors could speak, they would scream in horror as they told the tales of the countless numbers that had passed this way to their fate, and the few, if any that ever came out alive.

Doole went ahead of us, stepping out onto a metal catwalk that crossed over a pool of an undetermined green liquid. The two trooper guards at the doors on the other side stepped out, glancing our way to see who was coming with him.

We all advanced around the room and came to the doors on the far side. Doole stepped up to the security plate and pressed his right hand to it at the same moment he entered a code number with his free hand. The doors opened, and we all stepped through, leaving the guards behind as the doors closed.

No experience in any of our lives could have prepared us for what lay in the darkness beyond the second set of blast doors. The roar of thousands of voices flooded out as the doors parted. We stepped through onto another gridded, metal gantry suspended from the stony ceiling of the cavern by thick cables. It swayed slightly from our movement as we crossed the open prisoner's common area far below. We heard screams and yelling and as I looked down I could make out an undulating living sea of inmates whose actions had brought them to this hellhole that was Kessel.

We walked through another set of blast doors and followed a small, dim corridor that opened onto an enormous mezzanine, half encircling an expansive labor pit below. I stepped up to the tranparisteel and looked out into the surface mining operations facility. 'Droid workers were busy removing rock in the never-ending quest to find yet more Spice.

Doole stepped forward, "And this is only the very top of the operation. The tunnels where the Glitterstim is mined are worked by the inmates in complete darkness, far, far below us. It has somewhat of a depressing effect on them, and tends to add a bit of claustrophobia and paranoia to their already abysmal working conditions, but it must be completely dark. The light activates the Spice, so it has to be carefully mined and wrapped in sheathing before it is brought to the surface for sale. Sit here a moment while I identify the troopers you're looking for. I won't be long."

He turned and disappeared down a narrow hallway. The pristine landing deck outside was definitely no indicator as to what the inside would look like. The area we were in now was damp and musty with the stale smell of an aging, heavily-worn government facility. The only signs of current technology were found in the security systems and atmospheric shielding. The 'droid loaders working in the pit were hopelessly outdated and showed signs of heavy wear and minimal repair or upgrade, just enough to keep them running.

Topolev walked to the transparisteel panel beside me and looked down in to the pit, "I've heard stories about this place my whole life. I never thought I would be here."

"Yeah", I said, tapping the transparent pane as the others walked up beside us, also looking down into the yard below, "just be glad you're on this side of the security doors."

Doole waddled back into the room, "C'mon, follow me. One of the troopers you're looking for is a drilling foreman on a platform several levels below us." We all turned and followed him a short way to a turbolift. He handed each of us an oxygen mask and gas cylinder. "The air is a little thin as you go down further. It might be uncomfortable for you, so use these to help." We all pulled on the masks and dialed on the cylinders as we entered the lift. Doole unlocked the lower level with a security code and the doors closed. The floor of the lift vibrated and shook as we passed silently beneath Kessel's stony exterior skin.

When it stopped, the doors parted, opening out into a noisy, dimly lit area with a metal gridded floor. We all stepped out, and Doole led the way down the tall, open hallway between huge machines toward the increasingly loud whirring sound that filled this level. He deactivated a yellow energy shield, allowing us all to pass as we moved further ahead toward the sound.

As the shield re-activated behind us, I noticed there was now a fine mist hanging in the air and as we came to the end of the hallway, water and bright light showered from above, splashing away from the enormous spinning drill shaft that ran from floor to ceiling. The water was being sprayed onto it to keep it cool as it burrowed deep into the dark heart of Kessel. Doole tapped the foreman on the shoulder, who turned around to face the group assembled behind him.

Seeing them, he reached over to a large control arm on the giant machine beside him and pulled it down, cutting power to the main drilling system. The raining water stopped falling and the spinning shaft slowly wound to a halt as did the loud whirring, and again the masked foreman turned to face us.

He drew back his synthetic, waterproof hood and pulled the re-breather mask from his face. "Doole, what can I do for you?" He eyed us all warily.

"You've been reassigned, you and 0600. You're outta here", said the Rybet.

The man looked irritated, "I'm not in the mood for your jokes, Doole. I don't need your sick psychological games."

Lt. Tank stepped forward and activated his holocron showing the orders, "TD-1009, these troopers and I are here to pick you and TD-0600 up. You've been reassigned. The orders come directly from Imperial Center on Coruscant."

1009 shot a glance over to Doole, through the holographic image. The Rybet laughed, "I bet you guys never thought you'd see anything but the belly of this stone beast for the rest of your life, huh?"

"This is for real?" asked 1009, water dripping from his cloak and hood.

Doole snorted, "Do you really think I would waste my time dragging troopers down here and faking a holo just to play a trick on you? I have spice to sell and better things to do". Our pilot nodded in agreement as he snapped off the holocron. 1009 exhaled and closed his eyes a moment, as if an enormous weight had been removed from a tired beast of burden at the end of a long, arduous journey.

He unclasped the front of his wet gear and the hooded, waterproof cloak fell away to the ground revealing his heavily worn armor beneath. He stepped over to a small shelf beside the drilling control panel and grabbed his bucket. Turning back to Doole, he looked the Rybet squarely in the eyes, "Let's go. I've been here long enough."

*

Kessel had rotated, and now their side of the asteroid was facing the Kessel Star, the fourth and last remaining sibling of the three that had perished so long ago. Stone flew in every direction, thrown high into the light streaming down from the opening overhead and the ground shook as explosives were detonated on the floor of the pit, opening the entrance to a new mineshaft.

TD0600 maneuvered his large cutter into the opening even before the debris had stopped falling. He switched on the mechanism and was busy watching over it when Doole, 1009 and our group entered the freshly blasted wound on the surface of Kessel, several minutes later. We moved inside the dark hole and followed the burrowed path for a few meters. The roar from the cutter was overpowering.

Doole led the way as we advanced into the space directly behind the cutter. Our shadows fell across the rotating blades as we blocked the light filtering in from the surface. 0600 noticed the shadow and turned to see us coming. He caught sight of Doole and switched off the giant digging machine. It ground to a halt as he grabbed his T-21 and turned back to face us, unsure as to why the Rybet was confronting him down here in the tunnels with a trooper escort.

TD1009 stepped forward and pulled off his bucket, "I's OK. We've been reassigned! We're getting out of here."

0600 pulled his bucket off, "What?"

"We're getting out of here. They haven't given me the destination, but the orders came from Imperial Center on Coruscant, I saw the holo myself." 1009 slapped a hand down on 0600's shoulder, smiling wide, "We're leaving on a shuttle with these blokes as soon as we assemble our gear. Say your goodbyes to this awful place."

0600 had much the same reaction as 1009 had, his face relaxed, and you could almost feel the weight lifting from his shoulders as he smelled the faintest hints of freedom. He and 1009 walked out of the mineshaft past one of the tall, groaning atmosphere generator towers and headed for the lift.

*

Neither Rogue nor 0600 had any personal belongings to speak of. They had gathered what little gear they had collected over the years, tossed it in their bags and now were waiting on the landing platform with the rest of us for Doole to return with their approved transfer orders.

We had packed their gear and were talking when the Warden's admin 'droid came through the sliding blast doors and over to Lt. Tank, "Inmate Trustee Doole", the 'droid incorrectly addressed him as it continued to malfunction, sparking with white smoke streaming out of it's logic unit, "Commander Kluskine has 'officially' approved the transfer orders for 1009 and 0600, but also feels they know too much about his personal spice operations to be let go. You are to detain them until troops arrive or inform the blockade to destroy their ship as they depart Kessel."

Tank swiftly drew his sidearm and destroyed the malfunctioning 'droid in a shower of sparks and yelled, "LOAD UP. We're already on our way out of here!", as he raced into the shuttle.

The rest of us ran in after him, strapping in as Topolev quick-sealed the hatch. Rogue and 0600 threw themselves into two empty seats and were buckling their harnesses as Tank powered on the engines. "Rogue?" said Taka, clipping his rifle into the rack, "is that you?"

Tank sharply pulled back on the controls and the ship shot up off the deck and was passing through the magnetic shield as Doole and his troops poured through the blast doors onto the duracrete landing pad. "Taka?" said Rogue as he clicked his last harness in place.

0600 leaned over and grabbed Taka's arm, "Been a long time. Here we go again, another hasty exit."

Doole's troopers raised their blasters and fired on us, but we had already pushed through the shield membrane. Their blasts bounced back at them. "CEASE FIRE!" yelled Doole, "The blockade will have to take care of them now."

Tank was calculating coordinates for a short hyperspace jump as the wings lowered and locked into position. "This has to work, or they'll follow us." An aging Imperial Cruiser moved in behind our shuttle, her guns training on us. She fired, and Tank rolled us hard to the left, as the blasts shot past us. The cruiser then fired missiles at us, but he accelerated to stay ahead of them until the hyperdrive 'nav computer sounded a tone, locking in the data for a secure jump.

He dumped several concussion bombs behind us without activating them to act as countermeasures. The missiles mistakenly destroyed them in a blinding flash just as Tank activated the hyperdrive jump and our shuttle slipped away into hyperspace as the fireball dissipated, covering our escape.

The Cruiser's gunner made his report, "Target destroyed. Advise Commander Kluskine that the ship and her crew has been eliminated."

The ship shuddered and we were shaken as Tank abruptly reverted from hyperspace after a short cruise at light speed. The streaking brilliance of the starlines slowed to stationary points of light. He checked his 'nav computer. We had passed through the heart of Hutt Space and were now near Lannick.

He made a slight course change which would take us past Moonus Mandel and Leritor, skirting the Outer Rim and the wild space of the unknown regions beyond. We kept this heading for several days' time, passing near Bothan space and approaching the Arkanis sector and the outer leg of the Corellian Run.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Arrival**

In another system, far from our cruising shuttle, a small, covert task force took their positions around the perimeter security fence of an Imperial Holonet communications tower on Toprawa. One of them leaned in close to the woman leading the group and whispered, "Bria, this has to work, or there's no future for the Rebellion. There's no room for error or failure here."

She stared back at him, full of resolve, "It'll work. It has to. We've come too far and lost too many of the Red Hand already for it not to."

As she carefully studied the base of the tower and the Stormtrooper guards, her thoughts drifted back to the friends that had fallen along the way. When the data had been recovered from the attacked Imperial convoy and smuggled to Darknell, many had died to get it that far.

She remembered the long hours in the still darkness hiding in the caverns of the nearby moon, swallowing the grief and tears for her friends as they waited, hoping the search teams would pass without discovering them. Finally, the time was right to slip by unnoticed and make their way here, to Toprawa.

"The Holonet communication center here is our best chance of getting these plans into the hands of someone that can actually do something with them." She glanced skyward, following the lines of the enormous communication tower that stretched up into the clouds.

"You sure they'll be here? This is a restricted system. No one is going to be allowed to just orbit above the planet."

She glanced over to him and then back to her work, exposing the inner wires of the power cable running in the dirt beneath her feet, "They'll be here. The Tantive IV has diplomatic immunity, although this opens a new era in the fight against the Empire. Alderaan has chosen a side. Thankfully it's ours. Our troops on Raltiir created enough of a diversion to get word to a member of the Royal house while they were there to deliver medical supplies to the high council. They were given the coordinates, timing and their codename. They'll be here."

She silently motioned to the team on the far side of the tower and they simultaneously cut the power system for the perimeter shields. The low-pitched tone of the defense shields evaporated, as did the protection they afforded.

The two relaxed stormtrooper guards conversing at the tower entrance immediately went into a defensive stance as the third guard stepped inside the tower's base to check the reason for the system failure. Bria's readings showed the shields were down.

She gave the signal, and her team rose up from their cover and stormed the entrance, blasters blazing. The guards were outgunned, and fell in the blinding flurry of blaster fire.

Bria and her faction boarded the turbo lift bound for the transmission control room at the top of the tower. Only tense focused breathing could be heard as the small group silently closed in on the top of the massive structure. All were here risking their lives to regain what had been taken from them, and the whole of the Republic. Each one of them sensed the importance of this mission. They could feel that change was near, that a new hope was coming, and that their actions would be told in stories for generations to come as the turning of the tide against the Empire.

The lift came to a stop and the durasteel doors slid open. A crouching Bria fired a single shot through the chest of the officer in charge. Then, only the sounds of the machines cut the silence of the empty command center. They rushed out of the lift, through the drifting smoke and smell of burnt flesh, spreading their gear out on a console. Bria reached inside her vest and withdrew a slender, armored metallic box and opened it. Inside was a transparent data card embedded with the information that could end the reign of the Empire, allowing a rebuilding of their once-noble society.

She delicately lifted the card out, loaded it into the transmission data port and dialed in a transmission channel. She turned to her team, "Our contact's codename is _Skyhook_. Let's do this."

The young rebel by her side pulled on the headset and slipped into the seat in front of the communication console. He keyed in the frequency code, pleading into the headset, "Come in Skyhook, Come in Skyhook!"

Far below, a squad of Stormtroopers raced out of the forest toward the base of the tower.

It had been a long flight with many stops; dropping off supplies, changing ships, picking up a trooper here and there. One by one they had settled in, dropped their gear, worn in most cases, in a pile by their side, pulled off their buckets and strapped in for the flight. From the looks of their armor, they had all been in service to the Empire for some time, as I had, and knew the drill: take a seat, rest your body, rest your mind as long as you could.

The sub-light engines' gentle whine under their stress, and the slight jostling of the solar winds rocking us back and forth in the dim light of the cargo hold was the perfect catalyst for drifting in and out of sleep. Sleep. Troopers learned early on in their training that when you had the chance, you grabbed it, not knowing when you might see it uninterrupted again, for a long time.

The troopers from Kessel apparently knew Taka from a past station assignment. Although their initial greetings had been friendly, there had been a fair amount of tension during the flight, and the situation appeared to have been awkward for all three. They had spent a short time talking in the rear of the ship and then drifted off to sleep like the rest of us. My chest armor was pressed tight against my webbed harness as I leaned forward into it, my head hung heavily forward. I was drifting in and out of consciousness when through the murkiness of my dreamstate I heard equipment crates creaking and rattling, and then, disembodied voices talking about an incident with a suspected rebel craft. There was someone on an intercom and a live voice within our ship. It was Lt. Tank asking if it was safe to proceed on his current plotted course.

My eyes opened slightly. I was staring at my feet on the metal deck plate. I lifted my head a bit and saw everyone else hanging similarly.

The voice on the comm cracked back, "This is the Star Destroyer _**Devastator**_. We have tracked a vessel receiving beamed communications from a suspected rebel source in a restricted solar system. They were using the guise of engine repair to cover their presence in the restricted zone. We hailed the ship and commanded her captain to heave to for boarding. Our order was ignored, and the Corellian Corvette attempted to flee, disappearing into a hyperspace jump. What the captain failed to realize was that we had an embedded spy onboard. They transmitted the jump coordinates back to us and we surprised them by reverting back to normal space just behind their new position. We gave chase, firing on the small vessel as it again tried to run and jump away. We easily overtook it once the main solar fin had been destroyed and the reactor damaged. We've just pulled it in with our tractor beam and are attaching moorings now. As for you, your current course plot is clear."

Our pilot spoke back, "_**Devastator**_, I am hauling troops for deployment and have need of supplies. Our last stop did not have the equipment they will need to activate their new outpost. Request permission to dock and take on what we need."

The comm crackled in silence a moment, then the _**Devastator**_ replied: "Sorry for the delay, I have some rookies in here watching the boarding party on our monitors as a training exercise. Permission granted to dock. Proceed with caution. The Corellian ship is in our bay now. Troops are boarding it as we speak and we are taking fire from the occupants. Follow protocol, and maneuver into sub-bay 3."

I was fully awake now. I raised my head and looked around. Everyone else was still asleep. I leaned forward and to the side, straining my neck to look out the gunner's viewport and saw the brilliant tan curvature of a planet beneath us, and the _**Devastator**_ just ahead.

As we drew closer, the pilot slowed the drive system and engaged the landing gear. A rumbling, mechanical vibration began rattling the long row of jumpseats as the lower wings of the shuttle gracefully folded into their upward-reaching position for landing. The other troops stirred and lifted their heads, and the vast sea of stars disappeared from the gunner's port as we flew under the enormous Destroyer.

I saw the rim of the yawning hangar bay, and we smoothly began to ascend inside when I saw it; a really beautiful Corellian ship under high-tension energy restraints. A retractable boarding tunnel had been positioned under the bay doors in its belly. The _**Devastator's**_ troops had most likely used heavy-duty vibrocutters to cut their way inside to the bay, and would then have blown the inner door for entry.

As I watched, I saw several bright explosive flashes from the side of the ship, as four escape pods were jettisoned in a shower of tiny metallic fragments from the midsection. Our shuttle shook violently, as the hurtling pods narrowly missed us.

Occasionally when a vessel was boarded, wiring damage sustained from interior firefights caused the escape pods to randomly eject. I watched as the destroyer's guns trained and locked on the falling pods. Two were destroyed almost immediately. The other two were allowed to fall away toward the planet below.

The gunners had most likely scanned them and found no lifeforms onboard. I settled back in my seat as our craft slid silently up and into the third recessed sub-bay on the back wall of the main hangar. Waking up slowly was a luxury I drank in whenever the opportunity presented itself. Usually I was awakened by an explosion, sudden blaster fire or screaming proximity alarms.

I felt the landing gear gently bump the deck, then give and settle under the weight of our ship. There was some chatter in the back.

The troopers we had picked up on Kessel were talking with Topolev and Danz about their training on Carida. My time at the Imperial Training Facility on Carida seemed like an eternity ago; another place, another time; another me. As our shuttle settled to the deck, a loud noise filled the cargo area where we were, and the rear hatch airlock seals released followed by the ramp slowly lowering to the bay floor outside. The pilot walked down from the cockpit, past us without a word and down into the bay.

4120, Ddraig, Falker and several of the others were already out of their harnesses and following him onto the Destroyer, stretching. I looked down and released the clasped five-point buckle at the center of my chest and stood. We were en route to our post, so we were not required to wear our helmets. Leaving it behind, I sauntered down the plank into the hangar. Steam belched from release valves near the extended gear.

As I stepped off the ramp, I adjusted my neckseal and drew in a lungful of air. It was heavy with the smell and faint taste of deodorizers and disinfectants from the onboard atmospheric scrubbers. The air in these huge Destroyers was rarely changed out, it was simply purified and recycled.

Our pilot was in a small room behind a plate of transparisteel talking to a uniformed flight crew technician, most likely the voice on the comm. Several troopers stood behind them watching some action on a large display. It was being broadcast from inside the captured Corvette from a tiny camera in one of the Troopers' buckets.

The turbolift doors opened, and a black-uniformed officer had a silver protocol 'droid by the arm, briskly escorting it toward the security blast doors on the opposite side of the hangar bay. He was de-briefing the 'droid as they walked, and I could hear a bit of what they were saying as they passed me. "Yes, that's right, and the special programming you were given worked perfectly, U-3PO. You will no longer be serving aboard the _**Tantive**_, you will have a memory flush and be reassigned to . . ." and they disappeared into the corridor on the far side, blast doors closing behind them.

4120, the crew from _**Denon Station**_ and the Kessel guys were looking at the Sentinel ship beside us. Topolev was telling them some of its specs, as he had been deployed on one during the tail-end of the conflict on Kashyyyk. I walked over and placed my hand on the transparisteel panel, and leaned in close, blocking the reflected glare of the bay, trying to get a better look. I could hear nothing, but the screen showed a handful of troopers walking down a dimly lit gantry. Suddenly a figure in white stepped out from behind part of the hyperdrive engine and fired a point-blank shot at the camera.

The screen went blank with static, then another cam snapped on, this one on a helmet further back in the group. The fallen trooper was at the bottom of the frame, his head smoking. The girl was darting away as a series of expanding, blue stun rings was flung out from another trooper's lowered blaster, hurtling toward the fleeing girl.

The first ring tapped her on the back and knocked her to the deck, unconscious, as the other rings washed over her.

Foolish girl. It was useless to resist.

Shaking my head, and backing away from the window, I turned and walked to the edge of the sub-bay and peered down into the cavernous, echoing main bay. The planet I had seen on our approach lay far beneath us; a bright, massive planet slipping by against the darkness of the stars beyond.

Far above all of this, in the _**Devastator's**_ bay, the captured Corvette's back was scored and streaked; sparking flames and smoke rising from where the solar fin must have been. Suddenly, another of the ship's escape pods, from the stern cluster, ejected in a flash of light and a spewing of shrapnel. I watched again as the destroyer's guns trained and locked on the falling pod, preparing to destroy it, and then, nothing. The blast never came. The tiny pod tumbled and rolled toward the massive planet beneath us.

The Corellians certainly did know how to make a fine ship. It was a very bold design. Her lines were sleek, with a broad stroke of red down the sides and a large cluster of engines in the rear. On her side, just behind the command deck was a crest of some kind. I reached for my belt, and unclipped my macrobinoculars as I squinted and tried in vain to make it out.

The blue electro-image flickered to life with a buzz as I raised the macros to my eyes. I adjusted the zoom, reaching out across the hangar, until the image was clear; the royal house of Alderaan. Lowering the macros, I thought to myself, "Could that be right?" I had no idea where we were, but I knew it wasn't anywhere near Alderaan.

I glanced back toward the shuttle as I snapped off the macros and reattached them to my belt. I turned to walk back to the monitors and watch more of the boarding party when a protocol droid stepped in front of me offering a drink. I took it, and watched the mech hand a drink to Falker and then walk off in search of the others in my group. It was one of the passions of my youth, droid mechanics and maintenance, but I swear if this one had not spoken I would have run right into it. Droids always seemed of no consequence, blended into the background like a food processing or weather-sensing unit until they were malfunctioning. That's usually when I got involved if there were no maintenance techs around. I rubbed my eyes with my gloved hand and took a sip of the cool drink as I walked back toward the comm station.

I barely noticed several droid load-lifters as they adjusted the settings on a repulsor-lift sled. In my peripheral vision I saw it rise about 3 feet off the ground, floating with our new bundled supplies on top. With a firm push from their servo-mechanical arms, the supplies slid silently up the rear ramp of the shuttle into the cargo hold, with the droids walking behind. I took a deeper swallow of my drink as I walked. I was more focused on the troops in the comm station and the training feed they were watching.

The monitor revealed that Lord Vader was now aboard the Corellian ship. He was in the main corridor questioning the captured girl in white.

Princess Leia Organa, member of the Royal house of Alderaan, and an Imperial Senator now stood before him in the hallway. Although I was a trooper in groups that had been deployed in many remote regions, most of us had heard of the young, beautiful princess from Alderaan. In a sea of crusty old Senators, she definitely stood out. Vader was ruthless and relentless in his pursuit when he wanted something, and he believed she was hiding something from him. I found it hard to believe that this young, powerful Senator was the recipient and custodian of stolen Imperial documents or plans beamed onboard by rebel spies, but she seemed to be holding her own as the dark Lord questioned her.

A dozen or so troopers filed into the bay from within the bowels of this massive destroyer and fell into formation just behind the Sentinel.

Several of the others in my party were sitting on the edge of the cargo ramp talking to one of the troopers from the _**Devastator**_ that had filed out with the others and walked over to our ship. He had a bag full of gear. It appeared we were picking up another new passenger. His armor gleamed in the bright lights of this sub-bay, a sharp contrast to the other troopers whose armor had not seen clean in a very long time.

The doors to the turbolift opened, and a well-worn, veteran Sandtrooper walked out with a gearbag slung over one shoulder and carrying a heavy rifle. He stopped a deckhand and they spoke for a moment. The deckhand looked around to the drop ship and then over to our shuttle and pointed toward us. Nodding, the trooper turned and began walking our way.

The load-lifter droids marched out of the shuttle after securing our supplies inside. Tank had pulled Rogue aside and was speaking privately with him. He handed the invoice for our new supplies to him, then he turned and crossed the bay toward us, "OK, everybody on board, we're getting out of here." He briskly walked past us and up the ramp. The clean trooper eagerly gathered his gear and followed him into the ship. Rookie.

We all reluctantly complied, slowly making our way back inside the shuttle. As the trooper from the lift walked past me I said hello, "Hey, I'm Deckard, TD-2187, this is 4120."

He shook our hands, "I'm Ardan Drone, TD-0582, but call me Blade." As he spoke, he looked past us and up to a gantry that ran high above near the hanger ceiling. I looked up to see what he was staring at. A dark figure stood there, raised one hand then turned and walked away. Blade turned and walked up the ramp shaking his head.

I wondered what his story was. Maybe I would find out, maybe not. I took a last look back at the monitor. The young princess was being escorted off of the Corvette by a detachment of troopers. Lord Vader would most likely have a false distress signal sent out from the ship, as if they were in trouble.

It would make it all the more convincing when he informed the Senate that everyone on board was killed. The beautiful princess would most likely never see the light of day again, and everyone would think she had met her untimely end in a tragic accident.

I found it funny how fate had a way of bringing people to their destiny. Turning away, I stepped onto the ramp as it began to lift into the stowed position. I walked its' length and found my way through the other troopers back to my metal jumpseat.

*

Somewhere, high above the surface of the planet beneath the _**Devastator**_, high above this unimportant desert planet, this . . . Tatooine, a tiny, Corellian-made escape pod streaked across the dark skies heading for a giant expanse of emptiness known as the Dune Sea. As impact drew near, the ejected, tumbling, empty pod suddenly fired its' steering and braking thrusters . . .

*

The new guys were just settling in and the engines were coming up as I sat and clasped the harness across my chest; another glorious day in service to the Empire. The clean trooper shouted out to the group over the engine noise, "I'm Etz, Engedi Etz, TK-1255."

Everyone nodded in his direction as we were all thrown back and forth while the ship lifted off from the deck and turned to exit sub-bay 3. We glided over the edge and down into the main bay. The front of the Corvette slid silently past and we slipped through the magnetic airlock membrane, exiting the hangar bay.

Then suddenly we dove hard and steep, thrusting away from the Destroyer and falling like a stone toward the surface of the expansive, tan planet beneath us. "Damn it Tank!" He just laughed back from the cockpit. He had a long way to go to approach Riggs' skills, but he was good, and having a bit of fun at the expense of our stomachs!

These pilots were almost always frustrated TIE pilot wannabes or fighter school rejects and loved to perform twisting dives on planetary approach. I wished I had not had the drink, as I felt it rising in my throat. He rolled the shuttle over several times. We covered our heads as our gearbags and Impervium helmets tumbled through the air like missiles. Thankfully, our rifles were clipped in. The rolling stopped and proximity claxons blared through the ship as the ground rose up to meet us far too fast. We blasted into one of the deep canyons etched on the planet's surface, pulling up at the last possible instant, screaming along at full speed.

The ship was rattling wildly, and I leaned forward to look out the gunner's port again, my heart beating wildly, adrenaline coursing through me. Straining against my harness, I saw the walls of the canyon flying by on both sides. 4120 pointed out the port and yelled, "ROCK!" A huge rock formation loomed in the center of the canyon, and we were coming up on it fast . . . too fast!

It was tall, with a slotted opening in the center, far too small for our speeding craft to pass through, and definitely too wide to pass on either side! At the last possible moment, the pilot broke hard right down a side canyon just before our headlong impact. He followed it for some time before he pulled up above the canyon rim.

Then his voice blared over the bulkhead-mounted speakers, "This is Lieutenant Tank, and that, gentlemen, is known to the locals as _the Stone Needle_. Too bad we're a little too big to try threading it today. I've seen it done, but never tried it myself."

The crosswinds buffeted the shuttle as we rose beyond the protective stone walls into a sandstorm that was raging on the shifting dunes.

The roar in the cargo bay from the waves of howling sand blasting the hull was deafening. As we ascended, and finally cleared the edge of the storm, the roaring sound subsided and we could now see a small city in the distance, with ships coming and going.

As our approach brought us nearer, we saw many cluttered streets, domed buildings, smoke, then the spaceport, and row after row of tiny underground docking bay pits spreading out in a semi-circular fan.

We slowly flew over several open bay pits as one was sought out for us.

Once the bay assignment was confirmed by the spaceport authority, Lt. Tank lowered the landing gear and folded the wings upward once again, giving us and our equipment a last shake and rattle as the powerful wing mechanisms lumbered beneath our seats.

He yelled down to us from the cockpit as the ship banked and then descended into our assigned bay's opening, "This is the end of the line everybody . . . **Mos Eisley Spaceport**, **Tatooine**." The ship gently touched down, "Everybody up and out. I have your orders."

We exchanged glances, all realizing at once that those we thought were casual, passing acquaintances with troopers we had swapped stories with were going to become the core members of a new unit. None of us had any idea we were all being assigned to the same destination until this moment.

I looked around at the other troopers that had been brought on since Anoat: Topolev, 4120, Danz, Ddraig, 1265, Falker, Taka, Rogue, 0600, Blade and the other new guy, Etz. We were being thrown together on the backside of nowhere on the outer fringes of the Outer Rim territory. I shook my head. We must have all done something really terrible in a previous life.

As the front ramp lowered from beneath the sloped nose of the cockpit of the Lambda-class shuttle, a blast of hot, dry air washed over us and bright sunlight streamed in. Tank handed Rogue a data card containing our orders, and then disappeared down the ramp, pulling off his gloves, "There are environmental packs here for anyone that doesn't have one", gesturing to one of the large crates, "I'm going to get a drink." We grabbed our buckets and gear and made our way down the ramp. Some of the troops stopped to grab a pack as we disembarked. Stepping off the metallic plank onto the stone floor of the small bay here was quite a contrast to the gleaming Imperial bay we had been in just minutes before so far above.

The walls were worn and dirty. We all stopped briefly, glancing around and then up. Sand had blown in from the opening overhead and drifted across the floor, collecting in small dunes around the grungy, worn out fueling lines in the corner. No magnetic shields here.

As I looked around I realized he wasn't kidding when he said this was the end of the line.

Sand.

Many of us had worked in these conditions before, but the new guys, Taka and Etz, appeared to have come from starship posts. The whine of the engines was winding down into silence now, and I could feel my environmental body glove begin to cool slightly in waves across my skin, adjusting to the heat. I shouldered my pack, and propped my rifle against the ramp as Rogue activated the holo message embedded in the card and the others gathered around to see what was in store for us.

A small bluish-purple hologram of an officer sprang forth in the palm of his hand and began relaying the terms of the assignment. The holographic officer explained that we were to establish a new unit, the _104th Moisture Farm Patrol_, to protect and manage the local farmers of the region, moisture farmers.

_"Tatooine is a desert as far as the eye can see, barren and unforgiving. Water is a rare and valuable resource here. Among the local inhabitants are the moisture farmers. These farmers use evaporative moisture condensers or 'vaporators to pull precious drinking water from the air, as natural precipitation does not occur. The moisture farms are large and widespread, skirting the established towns. There are small pockets of indigenous creatures here and there, scavengers and desert nomads for the most part. The small, crowded cities are generally populated by lowlife spacers; smugglers, gamblers and bounty hunters who have a great desire not to be noticed or found."_

As I looked around at the stained stone walls, I could not think of a better place for that than where I was now standing.

_"TD-1009 has been appointed the Commanding Officer, with TD-4120 as his second in command. You are to establish your unit and enforce Imperial law. While this planet is in the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim territory, and does not have any significance to speak of, it is considered Hutt-controlled and smugglers use it as a refuge and a base of operations. Their services are utilized from time to time to complete official Imperial business in situations where troops would attract far too much attention. It is in our best interest to maintain a presence here. Your involvement on Tatooine must fall outside the jurisdiction of the 501st and that of the Empire as well. The Empire cannot have any official ties to the underworld. While you will remain Imperial troops, you will not officially exist._

There are quarters for your group near the spaceport. TD-1009's helmet feed will display the information necessary to locate it. There is a local cantina nearby frequented by pilots of all types that is considered a bit of a hot spot. Your patrolling presence will help control this establishment as well."  
  
With that, the flickering image retracted into the small wafer-sized card. Rogue slid it into his belt pouch and said, "Lt. Tank informed me that our shuttle was going to be followed down by a Sentinel-class troop drop ship. Those troops will be working both alone and with us on our first mission here. Apparently the ship the _**Devastator**_ captured ejected several escape pods during the fighting. Most were destroyed by their gunners. Several made it through. Onboard one of those pods is sensitive Imperial Intelligence of interest to Lord Vader. One pod was never pulled into the planetary gravity well, and was recovered in orbit, above, but no information was found onboard. Three made it all the way down here. Our job is to help recover that intelligence if it made it to the surface. OK men, let's get going and find this bloody post we've been assigned to, it looks like we are going to be here awhile."

There was the slight evidence of an accent of some sort. I had heard it before, but couldn't quite place where; somewhere at one of the many posts over the years. Everyone grabbed up their gear and an environmental pack if they didn't have one and fell into a line behind him. They ended up with several different styles of packs. I guess Tatooine didn't warrant the new stuff.

0600, who had a lip full of Mandalorian sweet grass, lifted the lower edge of his bucket and spit. "Welcome to the ass-end of space gentlemen."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Settling In**

After securing the shuttle, we walked up a small flight of sandy stairs toward a hallway that would eventually empty us out on the street. As we walked the length of the hallway, we passed the entrances to many docking bays like the one we arrived in . . . 88 . . 87 . . 86 . . . as we passed the entrance to docking bay 85, I saw the hulking, hairy back of a Wookiee disappearing down the stairs with his human male companion. They were arguing, in somewhat hushed tones, about how best to break the news to someone called Jabba, about a blockade and a dumped shipment of spice. The Wook was howling and flailing his arms as they disappeared around the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

Beneath the cover of my bucket, I shook my head, closing my eyes and letting it go for now. I was sure I would be dealing with it soon enough.

The smell from the streets of Mos Eisley drifted over us before we ever reached them. This was a run-down little city, formed from the sand and rock on which it sat.

It was old, dirty and well broken in, a lot like most of us. There were street vendors everywhere peddling practically anything to anyone who glanced in their direction. Food of varying origins was cooking in small street-side cafes. Deals were being made and beasts of burden were everywhere, hence the smell. There were Rontos and Dewbacks mostly, but I did see a tethered Bantha down one of the side streets.

It was unremarkable, and reminiscent of any one of the countless urine-soaked, poo-doo splattered city streets I had seen on any number of different worlds, except for the heat. I had been stationed in desert locations before, but a glance skyward told me Tatooine was unique in that it had two suns, binary suns, and both Tatoo I and Tatoo II were blazing down on us as we marched onward through the streets. The body glove beneath my armor was struggling to keep up with my rising temperature under the mid-morning blaze, but it was decidedly an uphill battle. There were citizens of all species walking the streets wrapped in loose-fitting desert garments.

This was a harsh environment, and most of the species we had seen so far appeared to have successfully adapted to living in the hot climate. Some sat at the street's edges, leaning back on the buildings in what little shade there was to be had.

Some smoked long pipes as young street children of varying species ran through the roadway playing games in the sunshine, trying to make a credit or two for the occasional odd job, and in some cases stealing food and water from the merchants or off unattended, uncleared cafe tables to keep from starving to death.

This was definitely the part of town that throve on the traffic from the spaceport. Based on what we had seen flying in overhead, straying one or two roads in either direction away from the immediate vicinity of the spaceport or marketplace left you in areas almost completely deserted. Here though, there was shop after shop of spare starship parts, cluttered with every outdated part you could imagine.

In one window I happened to catch sight of a thermal hydrospanner pack for a Sullustian WaveRunner. Those things had been out of production for several generations. Still, the shop owners were trying to wring a meager living out of what they had to offer. I watched their eyes following us as we marched past. I saw the uneasiness in their faces.

Some Imperial troops were nothing more than thugs, especially when charged with policing an out of the way place like this. It was the old "Big Otay in a little pond" story. That wasn't my style. While I had no problem enforcing the law, or detaining someone of interest, I never shook down shop owners for credits, although I knew plenty who had over the years.

They had done so long enough to stockpile their "earnings" for a nice quiet getaway from the Empire once they amassed enough to live on comfortably. We passed a fabric and clothing dealer, several gaming and gambling dens, and a second-hand blaster shop with lots of guns and parts. Taka was hopelessly intrigued with the last one, stopping momentarily to step close, shielding the glare with his hand and peer in through the dust-covered plate of transparisteel at the weapons and parts displayed.

Damn it was hot.

I felt the first beads of sweat forming on my brow as we came to an intersection. The group turned right. I glanced down the street to the left. Nothing but more sand there, and the Sentinel flying low over the Mos Eisley rooftops.

I turned right and caught up with the group, mentioning the Sentinel to Rogue. We were marching down a canyon of small buildings toward what looked like a dead-end. Further down, where the road ended, there were vehicles parked in front of a low-slung building with a small, recessed, semi-circular doorway. Jawas hung around, running their hands over all of the swoops and speeders left unattended outside. They scurried away, jabbering with their yellow eyes glowing brightly, whenever someone walked past toward the door. It seemed to be a popular place. It was probably the tavern mentioned in the holo. I would have to check it out later.

Our barracks were located in a sun-bleached, white building on our right. TD-1009 rapped on several of the door panels. It was secured, and from the look of the sand drifted up against it and in the crack of the seals, it had been for some time.

Rogue pulled out his assignment datacard and inserted it into a small slot in the door access panel on the wall. With a creak, the rusty, sliding door opened. He entered, and the other troops followed him inside. I turned and stepped through the blast door into the shade.

Immediately, the polarized lenses in my bucket adjusted to the darkness. A mixture of infrared and heat sensing imagery appeared before my eyes as a heads-up, real-time display. We were all looking around, trying to figure out where everything was when the CO moved to a control panel. Four rusted portals in the wall facing the street slid open with the horrible scraping of metal on metal as he activated the switch. Daylight streamed in, and just as suddenly as it had appeared, my imaging display was gone, and I could now see the room in detail.

Thick dust hung in the air, sliced by the bright light, and now blown by the gentle, hot breeze. There were several small data terminals, holonet ports and several large storage crates in this front room. I pulled off my helmet and walked through a narrow hallway lined with slim closets and shelves and found myself in a large room in the rear of the building. There were six sets of bunks and bedding, and more sand on the floor. Somehow, I didn't think we would ever get away from it.

I walk into the room and lights flickered on. I slid the field pack off my shoulders and dropped it on the first lower bunk on the right side. The other troops filed past me, each looking around and then claiming their own space. I walked a bit further back, through a wide arch and then a plate metal door. Behind the bunk room was a storage room. The walls, ceiling and floor were fortified with plate metal armor. It appeared to be a secure room for storing supplies and weapons.

Falker and Blade were working on activating a holonet data stream terminal and Rogue was taking inventory of what we had to work with, "We'll need our supplies brought over from the Spaceport." I volunteered to go back to the shuttle for our stowed supplies, "I'll get them".

"I'll help him", said TD-600, dropping his pack and gear bag. Pulling on our buckets, we stepped back out to the street and headed back to the spaceport. The twin suns had slipped from their highest peak, and were beginning the afternoon descent toward nightfall they had been making for millennia across the Tatooine sky. I watched the ships slowly lifting skyward from the spaceport bays, gently riding their silent repulsor-lift fields, then slowly engaging their drive systems to climb toward the cold darkness of the stars above. TD-600 rested his DLT-19 rifle on his arm. "So, where are you coming in from?" he asked.

I glanced over to him as we walked, "I have served on more worlds than I can remember, but only stationed long-term on a few. After I finished my training on Carida, I was assigned to Dantooine, a remote desert planet a lot like this place. I enjoyed the solitude there. Not many inhabitants. It was there that I learned and honed my desert survival techniques and received my sniper training. Learning these things from my instructors had been one thing. Actually using them to survive was something altogether different.

After the planet was secured, a permanent listening post was established, to monitor a vast number of mining facilities. Ore was being cut out of the planet and shuttled away on gigantic barge sleds at a rate that made me wonder how long the planet would remain on anyone's star charts. I was in a small squad of troopers left in charge for several years and then reassigned to Mimban. I was there a year before I could transfer out.

I was most recently assigned in the Anoat system . . . Sniper and Demolitions. The only inhabited planet, Anoat II is a filthy world of dense, humid jungles, deserted ruins and rainforests honeycombed with subterranean sewers and caves.

Most of my time there was spent crawling through those caves and sewers during our initial occupation and seize of command. We had to fight our way into the cities from below, as the indigenous lifeforms had the upper hand, entrenched in the ruins above. We lost more than a few good troopers in those battles.

I spent more time than I care to remember in the stinking water and sludge under that city and retrieving the wounded and trapped from deepwater starship wreckage brought down in that battle.

I am more than happy to be back to a familiar, dry assignment for a change. What about you? What's the story with the Kessel assignment?"

He turned his bucket toward me for a moment, and then spoke as we continued down the street, sand crunching beneath our boots.

"This isn't my first time in this dump", he said, glancing around. "It was here on Tatooine, a long time ago now, that I decided to become a Trooper. My brother and I had made our way here in the cargo hold of a freighter after our parents were killed. He was really mechanically inclined, a real wizard with machines, and we had been prepping this beaten down old pod for his boss to enter in some hyped local race.

The old man ran a little repair shop on the edge of town, and he had hired a palefaced lady gunslinger to protect the pod in off hours, until the race. Apparently there were some pretty hefty rivals breathing down his neck. I got to talking to the woman one day, and she agreed to take me out to the canyons and show me how to target and shoot like a professional.

My brother was busy working on the pod, so we were satisfied nothing would happen while we were gone."

"We were on our way back to the city after a great afternoon of picking off womprats when we saw the thick, black smoke against the blue sky. The garage had been bombed while we had been out. The pod was destroyed, and my brother was killed instantly in the explosion. Once he was gone I was alone. I did some digging for suspects, some real hard work to find his killer, and then I took care of business, ya know? It was later that I discovered the guy was a goon for one of the Hutts.

Some of the locals were talking about it and how somebody was going to pay for it with their life. I needed a way off this world, and a way to hide for the rest of my life. I had no money and nowhere to go, so I signed up with a squad that was passing through. They came in rotations every other season or so to check on things and used our barracks as temporary housing while they were here. The Empire took me to Carida and then on to other assignments over the years. It was in the jungles on Malastare that another trooper introduced me to Mandalorian Sweet Grass. You want some?" he asked, producing a small bag of the moist leaves.

I declined as he raised the lower edge of his bucket and spit into the hot sand, turning to look at me again. I glanced his way as I spoke, "So, you and 1009 have known each other for a while? Did you guys train together on Carida, or just know each other from Kessel?"

He took a few steps in silence, then turned back to me, "Just between you and me, OK?"

I nodded back, "Of course."

He glanced around, then began his story, "Yeah, we trained together on Carida, and he goes by Rogue, but have you ever heard of Belliran V?"

I thought for a moment, "Yeah. It was all over the holonet a few years ago, who hasn't heard of it. There was a huge massacre there, quite a scandal. Why? What does that have to do with you?"

He motioned to the hallway just ahead that led to the docking bays. Once inside the hall he stepped into the shadows and stopped, pulling off his bucket. I stopped and removed mine as he glanced around again.

"Typical", he said. "I'm sure the Empire covered it up, all neat and tidy while they flogged their scapegoats. Rogue and I had just arrived on Belliran V, transferred in from Malastare and newly assigned to a small squad. We were learning the ropes about our new duties and the local inhabitants, the Hammerheads; the Ithorians. They were a group of Ithorian, herbivore pilgrims that had splintered from the main population on Ithor and relocated to Belliran V seeking religious freedom. Our mission was a simple one, to protect and defend a small-scale mining operation. The Empire had struck a deal with Incom. The starship manufacturer had set up a small mining colony and was drilling out a semi-rare mineral used as an additive in the production of durasteel, to make it stronger and lighter.

The Hammerheads were a peaceful colony that found their way of life turned upside down by the mining. It was being destroyed by the presence of Incom and the Empire. Several of their sacred grounds were demolished without a second thought to make way for a landing platform complex as well as observation and gun towers. Our towers kept the Hammerheads at bay, but we started experiencing vandalism during the night hours. This quickly escalated into other terrorist activities and ultimately evolved into a full scale, organized Rebellion.

It was about 10 standard months later that Incom officials reported to the Empire that it had successfully mined out all of the ore that it could, and was closing the installation. The Empire considered leaving a base behind, but their investment in facilities was minimal and it was decided that once the Incom personnel were safely off-planet, that our troops would vacate as well and destroy the base from orbit, leaving what Hammerheads survived behind with their explosive anger over the desecration of their holy grounds. As misfortune would have it, the task of covering the troop extraction fell to our squad.

The last Incom cargo ship was loaded and prepping for departure when terrorists infiltrated our defenses, destroying our gun tower and opening a huge breach in the perimeter. The cargo ship was slowly lifting off as thousands of angry Hammerheads swarmed into the complex, blasting anything that moved and destroying the mining machinery. There were explosions all around and the high pitched squeal of blaster fire was heavy.

The Hammerheads hurriedly assembled a crude cannon and fired on the departing Incom ship. The hull ruptured in a shower of sparking, hot metallic fragments that rained down on us. The ship rolled over twice before crashing headlong into the base, digging a fiery trench from one side to the other. The fuel cells ignited, exploding with amazing force, rocking the entire complex.

We retreated through the still-falling debris and scorched ground toward the landing platform, but most of our squad was killed in a matter of minutes. I remember seeing our Squad leader throw off his bucket and grab up a T-21 repeating rifle from one of our fallen. He charged to the top of a smoking rubble pile and blasted away at the Hammerheads, but there were far too many of them. They swarmed over him, beating him with sticks, drowning him in a sea of Ithorian rage.

Rogue and I were retreating through the thick smoke toward our shuttle when an overhead gantry was rocked by an explosion and buckled, throwing others from our squad to their deaths. We were caught in the cascade of bodies and twisted durasteel that came down. Everything went black at that point."

He stopped, taking a breath. "When we came to, there was silence. We were caught beneath a pile of bodies; men we had served with. The Hammerheads had overlooked us, believing us to be dead also. I pulled Rogue out of the bloody pile and dragged him across the devastated landing pad toward the heavily damaged shuttle. Taka, who at that time was also in our squad, had somehow managed to survive and was already onboard trying to bring the engines on-line.

I clipped Rogue into a harness and went to work trying to re-route power to the drive system. I finally got that figured out, using the metal body of my blaster between two key contact points as a makeshift bridge for the power to course through. I moved over to secure the rear of the ship and saw Hammerheads advancing our way; thousands of them. I manually raised the access ramp and quickly hand-pumped the airlocks seals. Taka kicked on the repulsor controls, and the energy field pushed off hard from the deck as the angry Ithorians swarmed onto the platform, jumping for the retracting gear on our ship.

As we made our escape out of the atmosphere, the entire base, all of the buildings and thousands of Hammerheads were obliterated from orbit by one of our Destroyers, which immediately performed a hyperspace jump away from the planet. Left behind, we slowly limped away from Belliran V. The engines were way underpowered, as my blaster offered too much resistance to the flow of energy.

Several days later we made an emergency landing on Malastare. All three of us were taken to a medical lab and sedated for healing. Rogue was treated for his wounds, but had very fitful sleep; recurring nightmares of the invasion and the swarming masses prevented any true recuperative rest. When we were revived, we got the biggest surprise of all. We discovered that we had been moved to the medical lab of a prison facility.

Taka was gone, but we were being held on formal charges of Desertion of Post and informal charges of Cowardice in a Battle Situation. Rogue and I both wondered, and still do I guess, if Taka worked a deal to be let go, in exchange for our imprisonment. There's a lotta years of thinking about it and a fair amount of resentment towards him. I'm sure he's not too comfortable being reassigned with us. He probably thought he'd never see us again. He said he thought we were dead. I just don't know. It was a shock seeing him when we strapped in back on Kessel. It stirred up a lot of things that probably would have been better off left in the past.

The Holonet portrayed us as the troops that had destroyed the Incom base and along with it, thousands of Hammerheads. Basically we were being molded into just the scapegoats the Empire needed to cover up the Belliran V massacre. We were sentenced to 4 years in the Imperial Prison on the moon of Kessel, to be followed by a lifetime post there. We were completely shamed, shipped there immediately after sentencing and locked up in the general population with common scum inmates from a thousand worlds.

We survived the slow passage of time. Time that only seemed to intensify the terrifying dreams that Rogue suffered from. Something in him just snapped that day at the base and he was never the same afterward. The guards knew what we were in for, and treated us like dogs. After the first 2 years, we were made to work deep in the pitch black mine shafts, drilling and then carefully extracting the only reason Kessel was inhabited at all . . . GlitterStim.

GlitterStim is a naturally occuring mineral, a spice that lies dormant in the darkness of the mines. It's collected in complete darkness and contained in light-shielding wraps for distribution among the galaxy's biggest crime bosses. Users of the spice know that GlitterStim is dormant until removed from its' light-shielding wrap. It then begins to spark and sparkle a bright blue. Once it begins the sparking, the user ingests it, allowing them a rush of euphoria and temporary telepathic abilities. Eventually, we were made to continue working in the mines, but now we were working for Doole, overseeing the spice mining and distribution, and his personal side business.

Rogue was made a drilling foreman, and I was put in charge of demolitions and new mine shaft development. We would still have been doing that if someone hadn't volunteered us for duty here. I'm still trying to sort out if it was someone who thought they were helping us, or someone who thought this was a fate worse than where we were", he pulled his bucket on, continuing on toward our docking bay. "Rogue's dreams have subsided somewhat, but Belliran V haunts us both. Neither of us really likes to think of that night. When you guys picked us up, we were both given a new opportunity, a way out, so we accepted without hesitation. I had no idea it would be here, or that Taka would be a part of it."

I followed in stunned silence.

He just looked ahead as we passed docking bay 85. I looked back at the stairs. "Hey, let's check something out."

He nodded and walked back to the steps with me. We silently descended the stairs, stepping lightly as we made our way to the sandy bay floor. I could hear nothing but the hum of the charging and pumping units. He glanced around the corner. We saw a battered old freighter connected to refueling lines, but nothing of her crew, nothing but still silence.

"After what I saw and overheard earlier, I think it might be a good idea to just check this out."

I listened a few moments longer and satisfied there was no one around, I slid my slung rifle off my shoulder and switched it on as we made our way toward the extended entry ramp. 0600 glanced around once more as we paused at the bottom of the ramp and then ascended into the heavily worn ship.

The interior was no prettier, showing the signs of years of constant, heavy wear and smelled of freshly-welded metals and hyperdrive cooling fluid. I noted that some modifications had been made as I walked past the holo-gaming table and crew bunks.

The ship, however, appeared empty. As we walked, the thermal imaging system in 0600's helmet showed only trace heat signatures near the engines. I walked out a short hall and stepped into the cockpit, knocking a pair of dangling chance cubes with my bucket as I looked around. The two seats here were empty as well.

We completed our inspection of the cargo areas, walking the metallic planking that encircled the core of the ship's interior.

Satisfied with having found nothing, and there being no visible evidence of spice cargo, we exited the ship and headed up the stairs toward docking bay 98.

Several droids attended to the fueling of our ship as we walked past to the cargo ramp. Tank had already unloaded some of our gear from the shuttle and now was going over the manifest. He set his drink down as we walked up. "Take your time guys, as much as I loved leaving this place when I left, I'm in no hurry to shove off until you're finished."

We propped our rifles against the ramp hydraulics and moved inside. 0600 turned back to Tank, eyeing him cautiously, "So, you're from here?"

The young pilot sipped his drink as he reclined on the top of the refueler beside one of the landing gear feet, "I was born and raised here. Well, not HERE in this city, but Anchorhead, not far from here. Tion made it very clear I needed to be on my way back as soon as you were dropped and unloaded. Ralltiir is still too unstable, and they need me. He pulled me from my regular duties because I know Tatooine and Denon Station. Normally I fly combat surveillance sweeps, and there are still too many pockets of resistance left to flush out. I wish I had the time to go see some of my old friends. You know, show them how far I've come and how planet-bound they all still are."

H

_75_

e laughed, grinning widely. "I'll stop by and see them on my next trip back." His eyes swept around the room slowly, then lifted them skyward, his grin fading as he took another drink. "I know they'll all be right where I left them. Nothing ever changes around here except the dunes."

"Right", we nodded as we worked, removing the restraints from our repulsor-sled. The straps and heavy metal buckles fell to the gridded deck plate, and the sled lifted slightly. We eased it back down the ramp. The load was large, but there was plenty of room for the other gear scattered out here to be added on top, and we got to work.

There were packages of dried food rations, portable powerplants, chargers and blasters among other supplies. One of the huge crates on the sled was marked "Raw Impervium", in Aurabesh. Every piece of Stormtrooper body armor was formed from Impervium, a very strong, durable material. It could be shaped using a small device with pre-designed parameters loaded in memory. An armor part was selected from the displayed listing. A trooper would then pour the measured amount of the raw material, the consistency of a thick soup, into a small container. The tiny extended electrodes on the tip of the display unit were pushed into the liquid and the forming program was initiated. The Impervium was then charged with a flux of ions passing through it in a pulse pattern; a pattern distinctive to the part desired. The ion flux warped and distorted the white material into the perfect shape of the armor piece needed.

Once the ion field was removed, the armor piece hardened, never to liquify again. Helmets could not be created in this way in the field due to the extensive electronics embedded in them, but most protective body, arm and leg panels could be created on site, on the fly. Impervium armor was a great defense. Low-powered, or indirect blaster fire generally glanced off the hardened surface, although it did little to protect against full-power, direct head on shots.

Tank disconnected the fueling lines and disappeared inside the shuttle as 0600 crisscrossed the load with wide straps and cinched them tight. With the sled secured, we grabbed our rifles and shoved the floating load toward the cargo lift, just beyond the stairwell. We maneuvered the sled onto the platform and raised the sand-worn lever. The ancient mechanical lift jerked to a start and slowly rose to the level above. Tank walked to the end of the boarding ramp. I called down to him, "You're all clear, thanks for the ride."

He yelled back, "Enjoy the sand!" We pushed the hovering sled ahead of us down the hallway toward the street, and I swatted a few Jawas away from the supplies as we walked.

*

We made our way through the streets with our supply sled, as citizens who had not seen us before hurried to tell others that there was once again a Stormtrooper presence in Mos Eisley. We stopped in front of our post and stepped inside. Our CO, XO and others had been busy while we had been clearing the shuttle's hold. They had emptied the storage crates in the front office of their contents and had put together the beginnings of a respectable command post information center. Falker and Blade had successfully connected to the holonet and were streaming the most recent information regarding wanted smugglers and deviants thought to be somewhere on this rock. 4120 cracked the seal on the final crate as we entered. He looked up from the case of E-11s.

"I love the smell of new blasters! AHHH!"

Rogue stepped out of the bunk room, "Take the supply sled down the side alley to the rear of the building. There's a loading dock around back. You can just push the whole load into the storage room behind the bunk room." 0600 nodded and stepped back outside as I turned and drew my blaster on the same Jawa that had been trailing us from the docking bay, and he scampered away.

TD 600 dragged the sled back to the alley and turned down the narrow corridor.

The setting suns now threw long shadows on the buildings and streets as we both pushed on the sled. The narrow alley opened into a much wider courtyard between our building and the one behind it. The sky was now beginning to darken as our XO, 4120, raised the rear bay door and Etz and Taka came out to help us. We pushed the sled up the slightly inclined ramp and inside. I stepped back out onto the loading dock, noticing what looked like a battered transport parked amidst a pile of junk and discarded scrap metal across the courtyard. An enormous moisture 'vaporator rose up over the building just beyond it, probably for use in the spaceport.

I jumped off the loading dock and walked over to the transport. It bore faded Imperial markings and was obviously intended for troop deployment, but I wondered as to it's' effectiveness in all of this sand.

Etz walked up beside me, "Looks like its seen better times."

I nodded in agreement, "It sure has." I said, noting the multiple blast points and running my hands over the crumpled metal skin of the pilot's door. "When I was on Dantooine we commandeered some of the local beasts of burden for troop mobility. I imagine we'll probably be seeing more of the local Rontos and Dewbacks, especially if we'll be searching the wastelands for the missing pods. Poodoo. I just can't seem to escape Poodoo."

I shook my head as Etz walked back to the loading dock. I turned and followed, stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind me. We walked out of the rear storage room into the bunk room. Rogue was busy working on a schedule for spaceport sweep shifts on the wall display. If sensitive information did make it to the surface, this would be the most likely place it would be brought, to make it off-world. If we could secure that, the data could be found. It was only a matter of time.

I pulled off my bucket, "Anybody up for a look inside the little bar across the street? I'm so hungry I could eat one of those Rontos we saw earlier."

Rogue turned and straightened up a bit nodding his head and said, "Yeah, I could use a bite myself, but we should go in our flight suits and blend in with the other pilots; try to get a low-profile first look at some of our local clientele. Just a thought."

"And a good one" I agreed.

Etz, 4120 and the others pulled off their buckets and started peeling off armor plates. "We'll need to eat, check things out for awhile and then settle in for the night. The Commander on the Sentinel contacted us while you two were gone. He has secured Dewbacks, and will be running a series of daylight sweeps on the far side of Tatooine looking for escape pod beacon signatures. We'll pick up where they leave off at dawn. They will be in bay 98 to pick us up at first light."

I nodded, and was also removing armor, as my thoughts drifted back to the Wookiee and the pilot I had overheard earlier. I wondered if they might be drinking tonight. Our first day on Tatooine was drawing to a close.

I pulled my flight suit from my gear bag. There was no way we could have known what lay ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – Feeling Out Mos Eisley**

The scanning blue lights of the antique door sensor unit jumped back and forth, and a low, gurgling sound streamed out of it as we passed through the vestibule of the Mos Eisely Cantina. The bartender glanced up at the sound, and with a weary scowl, went back to pouring his drinks.

The room was alive with the sounds of voices and music. The roar of many voices speaking at once was competing with the Bith band in the corner, busy jamming out their music. It reminded me of the mixed sounds drifting out of some of the little pubs way down on the surface of Coruscant, the ones that served the best tasting food, the ones you had to really look hard for.

It was dimly lit by small table-top luminaries and a light hanging over the bar. The uneasy air was thick with the smoke from a dozen or more pipe smokers seated throughout the room and at the bar, mindlessly fogging the room with their intoxicating, aromatic haze. The bartender was serving 2 twin females at the bar, and trying a little too hard to impress them.

Tables filled with patrons, local regulars and pilots from the spaceport, littered the floor surrounding the central bar and were filled with heated card games and half empty drinks. Recessed table alcoves scalloped the exterior walls, for those customers seeking, a bit more privacy.

The others walked down the steps. Taka, Rogue and Topolev headed for the bar. I followed down into the room, slowly scanning for the Wook. I didn't see him, but the place was packed with an impressive array of outlanders, spacers and throttle jocks from all over the known galaxy. Falker and Blade were checking out the crowd as well.

Rogue had made himself at home and was talking to the twins at the bar as he waited for his drink. They laughed and drank Sullustian wine as they moved closer to him, hanging on his shoulders. His drink was slammed down on the bar in front of him, the contents of the container sloshing over the rim. He looked down at it and then up to the bartender as the rotund server turned his back and moved on to the other numerous orders awaiting him. Taka caught Rogue's eye and shook his head at the poor service.

Topolev received his drink in much the same manner as Rogue and walked past me toward the band. I heard him talking to one of the locals, asking about the music. Figrin Da'n and the Modal Nodes was their name. Only on Tatooine. He walked over to them, eyes skimming over the dimly lit crowd as he walked through the room. The Bith band members played very unusual instruments and swayed and pitched their large bulbous heads around in time with the music. Their long fingers moved with agile skill over the keys and sensors producing a bouncy, smooth sound.

4120 had a dark, brewed drink with thick foam sitting on top and was walking through the crowd, scanning the room. As my eyes swept the crowd, I noticed a dark, hooded figure with a broad, long beak wearing large goggles watching him from just outside one of the dimly lit side alcoves. 0600 walked over to me and handed me one of the brews.

"Cheers", he said, holding out the drink. I took the container and nodded in the direction of the dark creature watching our XO, and 0600 flicked his eyes to the creature.

"He's been watching 4120 since we walked in. I was looking for the Wookiee I saw earlier when I spotted this guy. He's taking quite an interest."

We both moved to the outer edge of the room and wandered slowly toward him, watching as his attention was focused on 4120 and not us. A green-skinned Rodian pushed gruffly past 0600, giving a grunt and a surly look as he passed. He moved a little too quickly, but no one seemed to be following him. He wore a gun belt and was looking around the room nervously.

We moved closer to the dark, robed figure just ahead. He was making squeaking noises into a device in his palm, when his head jerked in our direction as he caught sight of us. It was, however a moment too late, as 0600 and I took him by the arms and shoved him into the adjacent alcove, knocking into the table inside. We startled a Bith, seated alone, drinking at the table. He knocked over his container in his scrambling attempt to escape unharmed.

I shoved the creature to the bench seat as he squeaked in fear. I held tight and took a deep sip of my drink and looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed. The barkeep was watching, but when he caught my eye, quickly turned back to his other patrons.

0600 placed an extended finger to his mouth as he stepped in front of the captive. The struggling figure quieted. My fellow trooper pointed to his ear and shook his head to let him know we didn't understand. I turned my head to scan the outer room again, no civilians seemed to have noticed our move, although the other members of our party had seen our takeover of the Bith's table, and were walking our way.

0600 put his drink on the table and withdrew a small earpiece from his belt and placed it over his ear, switching the small device on. I motioned for him to speak again. He started squeaking, and the earpiece scanned varying conversion algorithms, until 0600 heard the squeaks translated into Basic. He looked up to the creature, nodding his head. The dark figure began again.

"I am Garindan. You don't have to use your hands, I understand you perfectly. I simply lack the vocal cords to reproduce your language. I have served the Empire before, here on the Streets of Mos Eisley, when the other troops were here before you."

He shook his head as he saw our realization. "Yes. I know you are in service to the Emperor. I worked with the last unit stationed here many seasons ago to gather and funnel intelligence from the streets and would like very much to continue that with you, in exchange for your good favor, small shipments of Spice to support my habit, and the occasional turning away of your eye to my deeds."

Rogue, Topelev, Etz and 4120 were now standing just outside the booth area, watching the crowd as 0600 digested what he had just heard. Taka was in position near the door with Blade, watching the entrance. Falker and 1265 covered the back door as Ddraig moved through the crowd, watching everyone.

0600 lifted his drink and took a long sip. "We have us a snitch, guys, and he's looking for work."

Rogue ran his eyes over the cowering form of Garindan, "What makes him think we need or want his assistance, and why should we believe anything he tells us?"

0600 commented as he switched his earpiece onto speaker mode, "He can understand what you're saying, ask him."

We all pulled closer to listen over the noises of the bar as Garindan began speaking again, "I know this city, and the people in it. They come and go, but it is usually the same faces. Occasionally there are newcomers, but they pass through here either arriving to stay, or leaving for good. I can help you, and my needs are few."

Rogue was thinking, staring at the luminary on the table, as 4120 broke the silence, pushing Garindan aside to speak privately to us, "You heard the holo, we're outside the Legion, hell even outside the Empire on this one. We're hanging out here all by our lonesome and we could use some help to hit the ground running. If his knowledge of the city and its people is as good as he's boasting, it'll make our lives a lot easier. He may even have already heard something that could help us with our current mission."

4120 moved back, allowing Garindan closer again. Rogue nodded in agreement as he looked at the snitch, "OK. We'll try this and see how it works, understand? If it doesn't, or you cross us, I will have no hesitation about making you disappear from the streets of this city as if you never existed."

Garindan nodded his understanding. I released my grip on his arm and took a deeper swallow of my drink as he straightened his cloak.

Rogue pulled a commlink from his belt and handed it to our new agent. "Use this if you uncover anything of use to us. I will answer." Garindan nodded again as Rogue continued. "There are others sweeping the landscape right now searching for an escape pod beacon. There is something of interest to us onboard. Have you heard talk of this or did you see a pod come down?"

The snitch though a moment, and then spoke, "I have not heard of what you speak, nor have I seen any such object fall from the sky, but this is a big place. I know that some of the desert scavengers, the Jawas, have huge Sandcrawlers that crisscross the desert in search of scrap and salvageable parts and supplies. If anyone would know about it, they would. They may even already have the item for which you search. Let me see what I can find out, and I will report in shortly."

Rogue nodded, allowing Garindan to slip between us and make his way past Falker and 1265, out the back door of the Cantina. We all slid into the bench seat and took over the table we had been standing around. Etz put his plate of food on the table and spoke up first, "I have a very bad feeling about this." Topolev grabbed a piece of grilled meat from the plate and took a bite, as Etz shot him a look. The others casually walked over to the table, still watching the crowd.

We all considered his comment, then all started to speak at once. 4120's voice was the loudest, so he continued, "If it doesn't work, we make a public example out of him, showing how bad an idea it is to cross us. I see this as a win-win situation. If it works out, we find the pod and the information; a rapid success for our first mission here. If it fails, we sacrifice the snitch, instilling a little fear in the local residents, and still find the missing intelligence. It may take a little longer, but the result will be the same either way. We stand to lose nothing."

Several nods of agreement came back from around the table as we all now ate from Etz' plate. Rogue raised his container above the luminary, "To our first night in our new post. To the Sandtroopers of the 104th Moisture Farm Patrol. Long Live the Emperor!"

We all raised our cups and brought them together in the center of the table before each downing a mouthful of the intoxicating liquids. As I swallowed, I noticed a large hairy beast coming down the steps into the bar. The Wookiee had decided to drink tonight after all. For his size, he moved with incredible agility through the crowded room toward the rear of the bar.

An old man standing at the bar stopped the hairy hulk, and the two spoke for several minutes. They both nodded their heads slightly, and the old man smiled, patting the Wook on the shoulder as their conversation came to a close, as if they knew each other.

The Wookiee continued on toward a dimly lit table in the back of the Cantina as the old man pulled his hood up around his face. I turned my head to follow the Wook to the table, and when I looked back to the bar where they had been, the old man was gone.

The dim table in the alcove contained a human seated with a lady friend, having drinks. He wore a vest, and military trousers bearing a broken red stripe down the outside of the legs. Somewhere in his past, an act of extreme bravery had earned him the distinction of the Corellian Blood Stripe. He and the woman were reclining quite comfortably as they watched the band play.

His eyes cautiously flicked toward the door occasionally, making sure he knew who was coming and who was going.

The Wook slid in on the opposite side of the table. The human sat up, leaning away from the girl, and had a small conversation with the Wookiee. The Wook grunted and nodded, rising from the table, crossing the floor of the bar and disappearing out the front entrance. The pilot took a final swallow of his drink, and settled back in with his companion.

I finished my drink and rose "I'm going to get a little air", moving to follow the hairy beast. The entry sensor gurgled its' blue light again as I walked past, out into the sandy street.

The Tatooine night air was cool, and the vast sea of stars above had popped from the hazy blue sky of the daylight and now shone brightly against the endless black. I thought of the Sentinel crew flying their sweeps, and how we would join the search in the morning. I watched as the giant Wookiee walked away down the street . . . almost out of sight, then he turned and disappeared into the hallway leading to the spaceport docking bays, most likely heading back to their battered Corellian YT-1300 freighter.

The Rodian from inside the bar pushed past me and muttered something under his breath as he made his way down the street toward the hallway the Wook had just taken. He stopped, turned around, and scanned both sides of the street before disappearing down the dark passage himself. Several ships were lifting off from their bays, and a Dewback grunted and coughed to my right, as it rattled the restraints holding it in place.

I heard a throaty cry from far off, echoing on the winds . . . more strange creatures to discover. I was just about to follow the Rodian, when the rest of the group came through the door.

"All right, let's get some sleep. I have an alert set to wake us just before first light. We need to be in bay 98 waiting for that drop ship" said Rogue as he handed me a container of warm food. I put a piece of the grilled meat in my mouth and began to chew as I turned to look at the passage once more before following the others across the street to our barracks.

It would keep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Needle in a Sand Dune**

The silent, empty streets were still dark and cool with the chill of night as we marched; proceeding into the narrow hallway heading toward the rendezvous point in the spaceport.

One by one, we filed down the stairs, and found ourselves in the service bay adjacent to the bay pit itself.

Instead of the sandy floor of an empty bay or the Sentinel ship we expected to find, there was a worn shuttle and a small gathering of men. While most were dressed in the simple desert cloaks and tunics of the region, one stood out from the others, wearing the military uniform and black cape of a graduate of the Imperial Naval Academy.

A Flight Officer dressed completely in black was checking names from a list and addressing the small gathering.

" . . . . and Samira Tevddeh. You men will be assigned to the starship _**Dominator**_. Our last recruit, Academy graduate Biggs Darklighter will be assigned as Third Mate to the starship _**Rand Ecliptic**_. We'll be under way shortly and delivering you to your assigned posts, please board now and find a seat."

The flight officer caught sight of us as he wrapped up with his men and walked over to meet Rogue. Our CO stepped up to him, "I'm TD-1009. We were expecting a Sentinel ship from the Star Destroyer _**Devastator**_**,** circling above" and he gestured skyward with an extended thumb.

The caped graduate, Darklighter, cocked his head slightly to the side, listening to their conversation as the officer responded, "No 1009, I'm not your ride. The Sentinel is on its' way in, I'm just shuttling some new recruits offworld, although I did hear that the _**Devastator **_captured a ship of rebels yesterday."

Rogue nodded, "That's right, we're searching for some sensitive data that was ejected from the ship during the fighting."

Darklighter smiled and laughed quietly to himself as one of the other recruits leaned closer to him, "What's so funny?" The dark-haired Tatooine native turned a bit more serious, "I just realized my best friend was right about something, and no one believed him, that's all."

A tech stepped out of the shuttle, "Sir, the Sentinel just signaled. We need to vacate the bay so they can land." The flight officer spun away from Rogue and walked back toward his shuttle, calling back over his shoulder, "Good Luck in your search, TD-1009. OK, Everybody in!"

The small shuttle powered up as Biggs Darklighter took a last, slow look around and whispered, "I'll be watching for you, buddy" and boarded. A 'droid scurried around removing the fueling lines from the ship's belly as her hatches sealed; then she rose out of the bay and away into the deep blue of the morning sky. For a few moments there was silence. Then, the whine of the drop ship's engines rained down on us as it moved into the space over the pit opening. It carefully descended, coming to rest just beyond where we were standing.

The Sentinel-class troop drop ship. Sienar Fleet Systems and Cygnus Spaceworks had borrowed heavily from their elegant Imperial shuttle design in the development of the Sentinel-class landing craft. My helmet display rapidly cycled through several ships and finally displayed a schematic for the ship before me.

Its' enlarged cargo hold could carry six squads (a total of 54 soldiers) as well as a dozen repeating blasters and six speeder bikes. It boasted four deflector shield generators, four retractable laser cannons, two concussion missile launchers, an ion cannon, a bank of rotating repeating blasters, and optional combat armor plating. To be fully manned, it required a command crew of five, which includes the pilot, the copilot/sensor officer, and three gunners. In the field, they were generally flown with a pilot and a sensor officer with the gun controls slaved to the pilot.

The Sentinel's removable seating units allowed the ship to be quickly converted to a straight combat vehicle delivery vessel or troop-deployment drop ship. In this mode, the landing craft could carry three dozen speeder bikes or a dozen compact assault vehicles. As the dual rear cargo bay doors opened to the sides and the ramp lowered, we could see that, in fact, the seats had been removed and 3 Dewbacks and a Bantha were tethered to restraints in the floor plates. Several troops marched down the ramp toward us as the smell of the Animals wafted out of the hold, washing over us.

Rogue removed his helmet, "I'm the CO, Captain", speaking as the lead trooper from the ship crossed to us.

T

_89_

he other trooper removed his bucket as well, "I'm Captain Tyrell. We have swept the portions of the planet that were exposed, possible landing sites for the pods. Two have been located, neither had the plans inside. There is a third signature that we picked up out in the Dune Sea, way beyond the city here, even beyond the borders of the moisture farms and the Jundland Wastes. We were going to inspect the site, but time was nearing for us to meet, so we aborted. A few of my men will continue on with you. The flight crew has been rotated. The remainder of my crew and I will catch some rest. Let us know if you recover anything of interest." And he snapped a salute to Rogue, who returned it.

None of the locations Tyrell had described held any meaning for us yet, we would have to review the data charts in the shuttle to get a better feel for where we were heading. He and his troops disappeared up the stairs toward the city as we entered the rear of the cargo area. One of the troopers left behind came forward into the light as we walked up the boarding ramp, "We have a lot of ground to cover between here and the indicated point of impact. I'm TD 1023, Davin Felth. Welcome aboard. Pilot! Let's go!"

I shook his hand, "TD 2187, Terek Deckard" and continued on to the jumpseats. Rogue and 4120 were reviewing the log and the navigational charts as the engines came back online, and the flight crew prepared to head back out.

We all strapped in as the ship lifted clear of the bay pit. The darkness of the cool Tatooine morning was shattered as Tatoo I broke the horizon, streaming sunlight across the sands and rocky terrain, slicing across the highest peaks of the domed buildings.

As we disappeared into the distance, the Corellian freighter 0600 and I had searched the day before, the freighter owned by the Wook and the Human, silently rose out of her docking pit into the morning air and flew off toward the little town of Mos Espa, even though her destination was a much closer section of the nearby mountains between Mos Espa and Mos Eisley.

*

The Dewbacks and Bantha were grunting and shifting, trying to maintain their footing as the ship rocked side to side. One of the desert lizards snapped his tail against the side wall with a deafening thud. Felth was sitting, strapped in between Danz and Blade, several seats down from me. He yelled in my direction to be heard over the engines and the livestock, "The pod's signature was pretty weak. We're going to need these guys to help us cover the ground near the impact site", he gestured toward the dewbacks. I nodded, as the ship raced away from the spaceport of Mos Eisley toward the open expanses of the Dune Sea.

The sand seemed to go on endlessly in every direction; rolling dunes that shifted with the hot winds, changing the landscape before your eyes, if you watched closely enough. 4120 was manning the navigator's station, and watched as we drew nearer to the small pinging mark on the scope. "Just ahead. Find a place to set her down" he said. "We should do the rest on foot, or we might miss it entirely".

The pilot nodded, and the craft slowed and rolled to the right. The Dewbacks scraped at the deck trying to maintain traction as the craft pitched into the turn. I heard the gear extending beneath us, and then the gentle bump as we contacted the sand, and settled in.

The engines wound down, as the flight crew exited the cockpit. Rogue released the rear door seals and opened the broad doors wide allowing the already warm morning air and bright orange sunlight in. As the others exited into the sand, Etz, Topolev and I released the clamps tethering the Dewbacks to the deck plate. We coaxed them down the ramp into the sand, leaving the Bantha behind for now. Felth was eager to get moving. He seemed to want to impress his Captain by locating the pod.

The tanned Ronto-leather saddle strained and stretched as Etz grabbed the hanging straps of the fur-covered saddlebag pouch and climbed onto the back of the of the first Dewback. Topolev and 4120 did the same, climbing onto the remaining two sand lizards. They settled into the large leather saddles and retrieved the Dewback stun prods from their protective pouches, screwing the long poles together in the center.

The giant animals shuddered a bit beneath them as the lumbering beasts adjusted to the weight of the riders. 4120's Dewback roared, and bucked abruptly as he shocked the beast just behind the head with the long stun prod. The angry animal turned and wandered slowly off toward the nearby ridge, shaking its head and kicking up a spray of sand with each step under its' powerful limbs.

As Etz lowered the front of his prod to shock his Dewback into action, the mount cried out, shaking his head and hurrying to catch up with 4120. Falker, 1265 and Taka walked ahead, in their tracks. 0600 and I followed close behind them with Rogue, Ddraig and Felth.

All of us on foot walked in a staggered formation, fanning out, advancing off toward the horizon, scanning in every direction for a glint of sunlight, a blown hatch, any hint of a part of the ejected pod. It came hurtling from space, and impacted somewhere near here without firing its braking thrusters. There should be some visible evidence; a crater, scorched sand, something.

We walked on for quite some time, over several large dunes finding still nothing each time we crossed the next crest. Rogue raised the Sentinel crew on his commlink, and asked for another sweep to try and pinpoint the target a little more precisely. We had walked to the bottom of the next valley before they flew overhead and swept past us over the next several dunes. I pulled out my macrobinoculars and snapped them on, scanning the horizon line.

The problem with the rolling dunes out here was that the horizon could be a days' walk or a short hike depending on the size of the dune that was in front of you. I snapped them off again. They were pretty useless from the ground, unless things were to flatten out more.

"All these dunes are starting to look alike."

Etz sat up tall in his saddle, straining to see, as the comm crackled, and the Sentinel crew reported a sharper ping on the beacon just over the next ridge.

The landing gear of the Corellian freighter settled into the sand and her engines wound down as the captain switched off all systems in the cockpit, "We're in good shape, nobody followed us."

The Wook was opening a panel cover in the wall of the engine compartment when the human walked past, yelling back over his shoulder as he reached into his personal bunk space for a tool box, "Chewie, let's wait on that. Take the rest of those cases out of the smuggling compartments and put them in the cache. You never know when we might need to use that space, and they'll need to be empty. When you're done, I need you to check out the targeting system for the upper quad gun array."

The Wookiee grunted and growled a reply as he closed the panel back over and instead grabbed a small electromagnetic handle. He made his way toward the top of the boarding ramp and knelt down. Placing the handle on the floor plate, he pressed the button set into the grip, firmly attaching it to the plate. His Wookiee arms easily lifted the first of the heavy metal panels. Once opened, he set to work digging out a half dozen cases of contraband spice from beneath the deck.

The human captain walked down the access ramp behind his co-pilot, carrying his tools. He set them down and stripped off his vest and shirt, dropping them in a careless pile at the bottom of the ramp next to the tools. As the Wook walked past him with an armful, Solo stepped off the ramp into the sand and moved beneath the ship, opening an access panel in the underbelly.

It was still fairly early in the day, but the twin suns were already beating incessantly down on Tatooine. The massive hull of his ship overhead shielded him from the direct rays, but the heat was all around, radiating up from the sand. He reached inside the panel opening up to his elbow as he checked on the integrity of some of his _custom modifications_. Several of the specialized parts needed re-seating. He reached into the box for a tool and set to work.

The shaggy co-pilot had walked several meters away from the ship carrying the metal cases full of smuggled Kessel spice, up a steep incline. They had originally had MUCH more spice onboard, but were forced to eject most of the obvious, visible cargo when they were threatened with boarding by an Imperial blockade.

These hidden cases were all that remained of Jabba's shipment now.

It would not be enough to appease the Hutt's anger over his loss, and could be sold in the future for cash without him being any the wiser. He turned and looked around, scanning the cliffs and canyons to make sure no one was watching and to ensure that the Krayt Dragons that nest in the nearby rocks were otherwise occupied.

Smuggling spice was not something he thought he would ever do, but it had become a necessary part of his life after the fall of the Republic, and was part of his duty to repay his life-debt to his friend, Captain Solo. It also kept him connected to Tatooine and in frequent, inconspicuous contact with the aging General, for the inescapable duty Yoda had entrusted to him.

The enormous Wookiee knew that call to duty was now fast approaching. He moved toward a dark shadow among the rocks of the cliff face and stepped right into the darkness of the narrow slot, disappearing into an all but hidden cave.

The cool of the shadows here was welcomed as the Wookiee carried his armful to the rear of the cave. He squeezed between stacked crates of blasters and rifles, a lockbox of money, military medical supplies and other various recovered treasures from his many years of flying co-pilot to Han Solo. This was one of several private stashes of goods, money and arms for whatever opportunity might come their way. The Wookiee reached the back wall of the cave and stacked the cases of Glitterstim on the ground, then turned and walked back to the entrance of the dim cave, to head back to the much-needed repairs awaiting him.

He stopped abruptly inside the entryway to the cave, standing motionless.

A huge scale-covered leg was making its way past the opening, followed by a whipping tail. The Wookiee leaned forward slightly, peering around the rocks, one hand on his crossbow. A fully matured male Krayt Dragon had been just outside, on patrol, guarding its home. This smugglers cache of Solo's would never be in any danger of being pilfered. Few had the stomach to be so close to the nesting area of the huge beasts. Even the Tusken Raiders left them alone. When the area was clear, he moved out of the cave and down the hill to the ship below.

We all turned toward the hovering drop ship and walked in the direction of the next dune of mounded sand hopefully lying between us and the pod. The early morning heat was taking its' toll. Our body gloves were straining to keep us cool, and our environmental packs quietly whirred away pulling moisture from the air for us to drink, but the glaring, reflected heat from all of the sand wasn't helping our search efforts. We made our way up to the top of the ridge and once again looked for any indication that a pod had come down here.

A hot, gusting breeze blew small intermittent streams of sand across the ground, giving the appearance of a low-lying, tan fog. The tiny stone particles whipped against our boots and shin armor with a sound similar to that of swift running water.

At first, there was nothing out there to be seen. Then Topolev spotted something. He was up high on the Dewback, and could see over this small valley into the next. "There's definitely something there. Not sure if it's our pod, but there's something."

We all raced down the incline of the dune into the valley, sand and dust spraying up against our leg armor from the rapid advance. Then we mounted the eroding sands of the slope on the far side, slowly making our way upward. With each step, I felt my boots sink down up to my ankle in the sand, slipping, and making very little forward progress.

The Dewbacks dug in and climbed with their broad, flat feet up the sandy embankment, pushing mounds of sand down in their wake. As we cleared the top of the ridge line and caught our breath, we were treated to what Topolev had seen. It was unmistakable. We saw it. We all saw it. We had found the impact site.

A wave of accomplishment and relief settled over us. Lord Vader would not need to make an appearance here after all. Rogue ordered the drop ship to set down on the ridge. We all moved down the slope, sand spraying once again against our shin armor as we half stepped and half slid down the steep grade.

As we drew nearer and nearer to the impact site, what had looked like shadow from a distance, became the unmistakable marks of eroded footprints in the immediate vicinity of the pod. If there had been tracks any further out, they had been wiped clean by the winds.

Topolev and Etz remained on their Dewbacks. 4120 dismounted and walked about with his rifle lowered, surveying the skyline. He and Taka watched our backs as we advanced.

Falker, Ddraig and Blade surveyed the area around the pod with 0600. The barely visible marks in the sand that remained gave no indicator as to whether or not they led to, or away from the crash site. The pod could not have made it past our gunners with someone on board. They would never have let it get past. It must have been the desert scavengers and their Sandcrawler. But if it was the Jawas, their crawler would surely have left far deeper tracks than these footprints, and they would likely have taken the entire pod.

"This doesn't make any sense! Do these tracks lead to, or away from the pod?" asked Rogue.

0600, Danz and Falker moved in closer and inspected the inside of the pod. Danz stepped back out into the sand, "Nothing here", he reported, "No data recordings, nothing, but I can tell you someone opened the hatch . . . from the inside."

Felth and I walked slowly along the line of prints in the sand, buckets down, checking the ground for clues, anything. Felth knelt down as Rogue looked back at the pod. He noted the direction of the prints and how they curved away from the impact site. "Well, if the hatch was opened from the inside then the only thing that makes sense here is that . . ."

He paused, turning away from the pod, his eyes scanning the directions the tracks seemed to indicate. "Someone was in the pod. The tracks go off in this direction", he said, pointing his E-11 across the dunes as the realization hit him.

Felth abruptly stood up from his crouch, examining a small metallic ring in his hand, rocking it back and forth for Rogue to see. "Look, sir, Droids!"

Rogue let the comment sink in a moment before responding. "That certainly explains why no life forms were scanned by our gunners. Now we know that the data made it to the surface, and that a 'droid must be in possession of it. We also know it presents us with a whole new issue." He paused for a breath as he scanned the horizon. "Which 'droid, and where is it now?"

Felth shook his bucket. We were back to the first step of our search again. Rogue knew it, we all knew it. "Judging from the tracks, we're looking for a biped of some type." said 0600. Rogue nodded his agreement. "A bi-pedal 'droid that is used to starship duty and finds itself walking in an environment like this couldn't have made it very far on foot." He switched on his comm, "Sentinel crew, recalibrate the search parameters and prepare for dust-off. We need to do a more specialized sweep of the surrounding areas. We're looking for 'droids."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Droid Hunt**

The Wookiee had the complex targeting system from the upper quad gun array torn apart and scattered across the boarding ramp. He probed the exposed circuitry with a diagnostic scanner in search of the problem.

Captain Solo was working down inside one of the engine vents on the rear upper hull when he heard a loud Wookiee growl echoing off the surrounding hills as his co-pilot lost his patience with the job he was working on down beneath the ship. Solo stood up into the bright sunlight, squinting and grinning broadly at the familiar, frustrated growl of his friend, and laughed to himself.

He bent back down inside and sprayed lubricant on the louvered heat dispersing vanes under his feet. He reached down and worked the vane back and forth with his hands until it moved freely. In his mind he pictured his frustrated first mate. Laughing a bit to himself again at the thought of the irritated Wookiee, he climbed out of the open vent wiping a thick, dark fluid from his hands with a red rag before throwing it down on the metal skin of his ship.

As he replaced the gridded vent cover he yelled out, loud enough to be heard below. "Relax Chewie, I'll be right down and give you a hand".

I watched as wave after wave of sand in this barren Dune Sea washed silently beneath the low-flying drop ship.

As our search wore on, there was no escaping the smell of our animal passengers in the cramped cargo area. Etz called out as he spotted a cascade of bones from a large beast stretched out over a ridgeline beneath us, "Hey, check that out." Felth stood, looking out the gunner's viewport.

I leaned forward and nodded as I looked out. 0600 poured the sand from his boots into a small pyramid on the deck, "That's the bones of a Krayt Dragon. They're usually found in the rockier parts in mountain caves, but they come here, to the dunes to die. Banthas do the same thing. Somewhere out here there's a Bantha Graveyard full of bones. Sometimes the older local kids used to skip classes and waste the day out here looking for it."

Although we had been sweeping for hours, the scanners had not picked up any droid signatures yet. It was late in the day, and the twin suns were sliding toward the horizon when 0600 spotted tracks in the sand beneath us. The pilot circled back around and dropped down closer to the surface to check them out.

He set us down beside the tracks and released the door mechanism. We exited down the rear ramp into the sand to check out what 0600 had seen from the air. Rogue and I knelt, examining the depth of the tracks as Falker looked off toward the hills in the distance. The tracks were definitely not from any organic creature. They were made by something large, and with great weight bearing down on a mechanical drive system, no repulsor field for this vehicle. Perhaps these were the tracks of the elusive Sandcrawler.

Topolev was crouched momentarily, also examining the tracks. He stood, following them with his eyes. They headed in a straight line toward the sharp, upward thrust range of sand-swept stone mountains that Falker was staring at. "They're heading off that way, toward those hills in the distance."

Danz and Falker agreed, "Let's go." We boarded the ship, dusted off quickly and raced toward the stony mountains, following the tracks.

We set down near the base of the hills, and once again we all filed out the back, leaving the animals behind to eat on large bales of food, and the doors open wide to help ventilate the hold and relieve the smell. There were small foot tracks, many appearing among the larger, vehicular tracks, and then fanning out, leading up into the hills following several paths. These may very well have been Jawa tracks.

TD-0324 and a couple of other troopers from Tyrell's flight crew walked off on their own, following one trail of tracks up the sharp embankment of a ravine.

We followed a snaking trail of the small tracks up into the hills as we drew our blasters, powered them on and holding them at the ready. There was no telling what might be found among the rocks ahead. TD-0324 and a couple of other troopers from Tyrell's flight crew walked off in another direction, following a branching trail of tracks up the sharp embankment of a ravine.

We were about halfway up the coarse embankment, scanning for life when I heard the same throaty cry I had heard howling on the wind outside the Cantina. It was joined by a chorus of several other howls and wails and grunting followed by a horrible scream and a discharged E-11 blast, then several other quick blaster discharges followed by silence.

My group turned and doubled back, quickly scrambling in the direction of the noise. We came over a sandy rise and saw a robed, grunting creature with a disfigured head stooping over TD-0324, rummaging through the Impervium utility belt at his waist. There were 3 dead troopers lying scattered behind it and several other creatures were racing away further up the hill on foot.

As we appeared, the creature rose, turning toward us, standing tall and thrusting a meter-long metal club over its' head and letting out an even louder war cry. We could now see that the head was not misshapen or disfigured, it was wrapped with bandages. It had a breather opening at the mouth and metal portals where the eyes should have been. Metal spikes were randomly thrust out of the bandages on its' head, giving it an even more fierce appearance.

The head wraps and loosely draped garments were a primitive form of desert survival, protection from the sands and winds in this wasteland. It was shaking the club back and forth over its' head as it wailed and snarled from beneath the head wrappings. One end of the weapon was curved into a blunt, round club head with a sharp center spike. The other end tapered into a spike surrounded by sharp, bladed fins. This end was covered in the blood of the impaled trooper lying at the creature's feet.

We all froze for just a second, not quite sure what to make of this thing. It was 0600 that reacted first, lowering his blaster rifle and blowing a gaping hole through the chest of the wailing desert nomad. It fell to the sand in a heap, dropping the club as smoke curled away from the wound imposed by the sudden burst of energy from the heavy rifle.

We walked closer to get a better look. I raised my eyes and blaster, scanning the cliffs around us, in case the others were watching, waiting for a chance to attack the rest of us. There did not appear to be any that I could see. This trooper and the others were dead, as was the creature. "Tusken Raider", said 0600, kicking the twitching leg of the body lying in the sand. "The locals also call them Sandpeople. These things are not to be messed with", he said as he walked over to the discarded weapon and picked up the dropped Gaffi stick.

He turned the war club over in his hands as he slowly walked a bit further up to the plateau at the top of the hill. "Check this out guys", he called back down to us as his eyes swept across the rocks. We walked up to the top of the ravine and he pointed across the flat mesa to a cave in the face of the wall just ahead. "I bet we find the others in his raiding party, or maybe a fugitive droid in there", he said, pointing to a small opening in the rocks.

Rogue and the others circled around a large rock and moved in closer to the cave to get a better look. 0600 was looking over the heavy club as I walked past to join the search group, "I think I'm gonna hang on to this", he said, "You never know when it might come in handy." I nodded in agreement, "Nice little trophy too." He walked after me toward the cave.

4120, 1344, Danz, Etz and I entered the cave as Rogue, 0600 and Topolev covered us, watching the cliffs surrounding the plateau. Confident there were no Tuskens to our rear, they followed us inside, leaving Taka to guard the entrance. Our infrared bucket imaging systems flickered on in the darkness of the cave. It smelled of death in here. The remains of several small desert animals lay on a small rock inside, most had been slaughtered and eaten, but what pieces remained permeated the room with a foul smell. Topolev found several clubs resting against the cave wall as we advanced, "Those are mine when we head out", he said, pointing to the Gaffi sticks.

Danz picked up a small mechanical device off the floor of the cave, and shrugged, "I can't be sure, but it looks like a calibration tool of some kind. I bet they bought it from our Jawas". We spread out as the narrow entrance room expanded into a darker, larger cavern with craggy stalactites hanging from the ceiling. A few shabby blankets were wound into sleeping nests on the uneven ground in the darker areas near the walls.

Rogue went to examine them as Etz happened to look up at a sudden movement among the rocks overhead just in time to see a Tusken dropping down howling; its bladed gaffi pointed straight down for the kill. Instead of being stabbed through his neck and down into his chest, the blade struck him on his protective shoulder armor and glanced off, knocking him to the ground. Another creature jumped on Danz, who swiveled away and cracked the creature square in the face with the butt of his rifle, driving the metal eyepieces back into the skull beneath the wraps. In the ensuing confusion, I was knocked to the floor from behind by the blunt end of a gaffi in my back.

My bucket flew off and rolled aside as the creature jumped over me wielding the club and howling. Etz blew a hole through the Tusken on top of him and rolled over, taking aim at the one just struck by Danz, but Falker beat him and Topolev to it, blasting a smoking hole through the bandaged neck of the beast. 0600 turned abruptly at the waist, jamming the gaffi stick he held firmly through the chest of the Tusken charging him as Topolev blasted it. 4120 took aim at the creature struggling with me but couldn't get a clear shot.

I kicked the feet out from under the robed Tusken standing over me and rolled to my feet as the creature rose up, flailing its stick at me in wide arcs, cutting through the air just in front of me. I jerked my head back out of the way to avoid being struck, but was a second too late, as the sharpened spike on the tip of the weapon sliced through the skin on my brow. As the sharp tip flew by again, I reached up, grabbed the Tusken by the neck, jammed the muzzle of my blaster in the flailing creature's mouth and quickly pulled the trigger. I saw a bright red flash in the eyepieces, and the limp Tusken corpse dropped to the cave floor.

I spun back to the others with my blaster held out, squinting to see in the dim light. They had their blasters pointing my way. When they realized it was me, they quickly holstered them. I bent down and picked up my bucket, putting my gloved hand to my forehead. When I pulled it away, blood covered the palm and dripped freely from my sliced head.

We turned back toward the entrance of the cave and walked past Taka back out into the light of the day. I wiped the blood from my face and eyes, and pressed hard against the slice wound as I took a seat on the small rock just outside. Topolev came out behind Danz carrying an armful of the deadly spiked metal clubs. "There's one here for each of us, if you want them."

I opened several of the belt compartments on my utility belt searching for bandages. The first had reinforced cord and a small grappling hook, the second a small concussion charges. Finally I found the right one with several small packages of bandages and a topical bacta spray. Topolev dropped a gaffi beside me. Etz and 0600 walked past me as I squeezed my split skin together and stretched the bacta-coated bandage in place, pressing it down hard. I looked up, "Hey, is your shoulder OK?"

He looked back, "Yeah it's fine, I was lucky. How's the head?"

"I'll live."

0600 walked around the corner and called back to us, "I thought this was where we were. Behold gentlemen, the ruins of the first B'omarr Monk temple on Tatooine." It was a small ruined pile of stone. I stood up and we all walked over for a closer look.

"The B'omarr built this small shrine as a gathering point to meditate in the tranquility of the desert after the crash of their starship, right over there", he said pointing to another of the sandy peaks.

The shifting sands over the centuries had all but buried the remnants of the B'Omarr vessel, but the main drive thrusters could still be seen protruding from the cliffside.

"The first B'Omarr had a temple here. This small shrine was just the top of a network of tunnels and caverns inside these jagged hills, but that, gentlemen, is a story and excursion into the desert for another time", and he walked away from the small crumbling building. "The monks built a much more heavily fortified palace further out in the Dune Sea before they began shedding their bodies. We may pass near it later if we continue on our previous course."

"Excuse me, did you say 'shedding their bodies?", asked Etz, rubbing his shoulder.

0600 grinned wide beneath his bucket, "That's right. After the palace was completed, the monks all underwent a procedure that removed their brains from their bodies, and placed it into a life-supporting nutrient-rich liquid in clear jars. They felt if they were free from the restraints of the physical body, their meditations would take them deeper into understanding the universe. There's a small army of spider-walker 'droids in the palace. They remove the jars from the central meditation chamber when a monk has the desire to move about."

Etz said nothing more.

I stood up, holding my head, "These Sandpeople must have bought that calibrator from the Jawas. Those 'crawler tracks were recent. We need to be looking for Jawas, and their Sandcrawler. They must have picked up our wandering 'droid." I walked to the edge of the plateau and looked down into the vast valley stretching out before me. Tatoo I had just sunk beneath the mountains on the horizon, and Tatoo II was not far behind. The landscape in this direction was brutal. "Sandcrawler or not, they didn't go this way."

0600 nodded his bucket in agreement with me. "You're right about that. Even a 'crawler wouldn't make it through that. We need to head back to the ship and set our sensors for a Jawa Sandcrawler. That should be a little easier to find than a half-buried escape pod or a lost 'droid."

*

The ride was fairly smooth as we raced the Sentinel across the sands in search of the large mechanized transport of the Jawas. The second of the twin suns was almost setting as we raced through a pass in the low hills. 0600 sat forward, "There's the palace." We all looked out the gunner's port as we moved past the massive structure.

Etz sat back uneasily, contemplating the dismembered brains walking about inside. 0600 spoke under his breath; more to himself than anyone else. "They're not the only tenants anymore."

As our ship disappeared toward the horizon, an occupant emerged from another ship that had landed just outside the monks Palace. He stepped off the extended ramp into the sand, the heat baking his Mandalorian armor.

There was a job to be done. He had been called in to help collect from a smuggler, by one of the Palace's newer tenants, Jabba the Hutt.

The second of the two suns was disappearing beneath the horizon as Captain Solo snapped the last piece of the targeting system back in place under the long barrels of the upper Quad-Gun array.

"It's getting dark, let's finish this up. We can stay here tonight and head back to the spaceport in the morning. I want to take a quick inventory of the cache, and I have more work to do inside anyway."

The Wookiee barked a response as he re-connected the power couplings and cycled through a synchronization process on the gun. When it finished, he slipped into the adjacent gunner's chair and grabbed the controls. The small display monitor before him flickered to life as the guns rose on the outside of the ship, mimicking his movements. He howled again, appearing satisfied. Outside the window, Solo stood up and stepped away from the swiveling guns, heading for the top hatch.

* * *

Tatoo II had settled just below the horizon and it was almost dark when we dropped over a ridge and came across what we had been searching for. There, just ahead, stopped for the night, with a camp made and fires blazing, was not one, but two of the massive Sandcrawlers.

Our pilot rolled toward them and set down just outside their camp. We could see the little creatures scurrying around their huge vehicle as we disembarked.

As we walked away from the Sentinel and drew closer to the Crawler, we could see many of the little creatures hiding behind the massive treads of their vehicle, watching us closely to see what we would do. One Jawa warily left his hiding place and walked slowly over to us with his arm outstretched, as if to welcome us. He jabbered several small phrases before 0600 could switch on his bucket translator.

A series of small whistles issued from his helmet as it scanned the translation algorithms trying to convert to speech. Then he nodded his head, "I've got it. It's a little broken, must be the local dialect, but I think I can translate it."

0600 spoke to the little creature, and his bucket emitted a series of garbled messages, converted to the Jawa language. "We are looking for a 'droid that you may have found wandering in the desert. It probably looks like us, with 2 legs." The small, brown-robed creature seemed to think a moment and then respond. "Many 'droids and scrap we have, from the wastes, but no recoveries of any that stand and walk as you do. I check with the others" and he turned and ran toward the front tread on the looming Crawler.

Rogue instinctively raised his rifle at the quick movement, but 0600 waved a hand. "It's OK, he's just going to see if any of the others know anything. He says they have many droids. Some collected from the wastelands, but they haven't picked up any bipeds." Several other Jawas poked their heads around the side of the vehicle and joined the messenger, yellow eyes glowing brightly in the dim twilight. They all turned their backs to us and began to jabber among themselves, but turned around several times to check on us.

When the small band had finished discussing the 'droids, the little leader returned to us, saying that the driver of the other Crawler had not recovered any bipeds either, but noted that there was at least one other Crawler out in the Dune Sea that may have. 0600 thanked the little creature and stood up to face Rogue. "They don't know anything about a biped 'droid. We surprised them, they're pretty shaken. He would have told us." We all lowered our blasters and filed back on board the drop ship. "Back to square one", said 4120 as he sat down in his jumpseat. "Yup", replied Blade.

The little Jawa scratched his head, watching as our drop ship lifted off into the bright, fiery orange of the dying daylight.

He wondered if perhaps any of us might possibly have been interested in the little blue astromech the other, third Crawler out in the dunes had recovered among the rocky canyons at the edge of the wastes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - Interrogations**

We continued on, sweeping the seemingly endless rolling fields of sand for the missing Sandcrawler, until the last of the days' light had faded away. Although our instruments could continue picking up signals, we were exhausted beyond reading them. We set down at the base of a rocky outcropping along the edge of the Dune Sea, near the Jundland Wastes.

The livestock was offloaded and tethered to the side of the ship, left to graze on large bales of food brought from the cargo area. Temperatures were beginning to drop without the warmth of the suns overhead, so we took several of the compressed food bales and set them afire just outside the rear of the ship. The first shift guard was in place, scanning the area with his thermal imaging so the rest of us could get some sleep. We gathered around the blaze and settled in for the night.

Danz propped himself up on one elbow, the firelight throwing flickering light and shadow across his armor as he looked over to Blade, "So what was that all about back up on the _**Devastator**_? Who was that up on the gantry?" We all turned to face Blade, curious to hear.

Etz asked, "What are you talking about?"

Danz sat up fully, "Back up on the _**Devastator**_, just as we were about to leave, I was strapped in near the rear hatch and Blade here was boarding. He was talking to Deckard and 4120 when I saw him look up to a dark figure on an overhead access gantry. Whoever it was raised a hand, then turned and disappeared into the shadows as we lifted off. So who was it, Blade?"

Ddraig looked over at Taka, who looked over to Falker and Rogue, then they all turned toward Blade. He stared silently into the fire for a few moments then drew in a breath and began his story, "I'm a third generation soldier. I am very proud of our service history and have worked hard to live up to my family's expectations. My father's position has been both a blessing and a curse for me though. He always wanted me to stand in his footsteps one day on the bridge of a cruiser but I just never considered myself Navy material. My determination to not let family ties influence my path as a soldier has, in some regard, been my undoing."

1265 paced back and forth, scanning the darkened dunes, blaster drawn and at the ready but kept an ear open as we all listened closely to Blade over the sound of the wind. "My goal from as far back as I can remember was to join the Imperial Guard. My thoughts take me back to when, as a boy, I visited my father on his ship. On that rare occasion I remember standing in fear and awe as special visitors came aboard. I caught only glimpses of the dignitaries with their long red-robed protectors with the gleaming, faceless red helmets. I could feel their intimidating glares and stern disposition, even from beneath their expressionless armor. Only the best, the toughest, most dedicated were permitted among their ranks. From that day on I knew my destiny, or so I thought." One of the Dewbacks groaned as he continued.

"Many early years of training and preparation yielded my placement near the top of my class coming out of the Academy. Two seasons later I was with a chosen few selected to continue my training with the Guard themselves. My father was proud even though I know in his heart he had wanted a different outcome for me. For several months members of my squad had butted heads with one of the other trainees who had been installed as our squad leader and superior. He was the son of a well-known politician. His position in guard training had been maneuvered and bought. The father was well-known for his unscrupulous tactics for pushing agendas through the Senate. My father had served with him, and knew the full extent of his corruption."

Blade looked around the fire into our eyes as we listened. Some eyes were on him, some on the fire, some off into the stars.

"My father knew him well. They had clashed many times, and as time progressed, my father advanced, whereas the politician-to-be eventually wound up a little further down in the ranks. There was an altercation one night with several women in a local club, and the other man was dismissed from service. He wasted no time moving into politics, using his contacts, blackmailing anyone and everyone he had information on to move himself ahead. On numerous occasions the others in the unit, and I myself, had similar problems with his son. We had to correct him on matters of procedure and protocol and continually pick up his slack both physically and mentally.

My father warned me to watch him, and he was right. Our training group decided it would be a solid testimony to us all if we made it through under his leadership, or lack thereof. Eventually he would fall by the wayside. We just had to keep training and following his commands, but doing it faster and better than he could. He let it go with everyone but me."

0600 slid his pack off and sat down on an empty equipment crate near the entry ramp and spit into the darkness. The flames of the fire flickered in the light breeze as Blade continued.

"He was on me constantly, riding me harder and harder right up until our last furlough. It was just before our sequestered training began, separated from the general populace on Carida. It was late in the evening, and I had been finishing up a squad report, that he was supposed to have filed, before I headed out. The group was out for a night of drinking before our strict regimen of clean body, clean mind became a way of life. Most of my squadmates had been drinking for hours and were halfway down the row of pubs in the bottom by the time I arrived. Our "_superior_" had apparently enjoyed one too many and was busy spouting off at the mouth about me when I arrived.

I moved to the bar, ignoring him. I stood there with quiet rage, drinking my drink as he belligerently berated me and mocked my exemplary performance. I would not let him get the better of me, not this close, not now. I was determined to keep it together. I successfully kept my anger in check until my family's loyalty to the Empire was questioned. I didn't make a move, or strike out at him; I just wryly smiled back at him as I took another sip of my drink. My apparent amusement enraged him. He wanted so badly for me to hit him and start something. The drink had gotten the better of his senses and he finally swung his drink container at me, shattering it against my head. There was a brief scuffle in the back of the tavern in which I gave him the beating he had long deserved. Somewhere along the way he tripped in his drunken stupor and fell backward into the bar, snapping his neck just below the base of his skull. My fate and future was sealed before his lifeless body hit the floor."

There was a moment's silence as he paused, trying to think of how best to proceed, "It's hard to explain how it feels to have everything you have worked so hard to accomplish just vanish . . . gone in an instant. I was eventually acquitted based on the testimony of my squad mates and the other bar patrons. It was clearly self-defense, but all my life I had wanted one thing. I had spent years preparing my mind and body. I was so close to what I wanted and it would never happen. I thought surely the Guard would want someone who stood up for their beliefs, especially when defending the reputation of the Empire, but I guess the death of his son was more than the twisted politician would allow. I'm certain he used his influence to make sure the door to the Guard was closed to me forever.

After the publicity of the trial dies down, my father asked that I not contact him unless I was in danger. Although his request was not in anger, we haven't spoken in almost ten standard years. We don't really have to though. He knows what the fight was about, and he's proud of me, but he also knows that if anyone ever thought he was using his influence on my behalf, it could be taken the wrong way by the wrong people. Distance was best.

I was assigned to desert training on Dantooine, but with the decreasing demand for that specialty, I was moved again and cross-trained as an AT-ST pilot. While working my way up to AT-AT Commander, I was strangely and quickly reassigned. In the middle of the night I was unceremoniously awakened, and told to leave everything behind. A cloaked figure escorted me to a remote hangar telling me that my belongings would follow shortly.

Papers had been prepared and orders processed for my transfer back into a Stormtrooper position. I found myself strapping on my armor once again, shipping out to a remote building site to oversee and protect a group of structural engineers and an encampment of Wookiee slaves working on a "top clearance only" project.

It was later that season that I earned my call sign. Two slaves broke their shackles and in seconds had overpowered three troopers, killing the first two. It's amazing how fast those big creatures can move when they're motivated. The smaller one grabbed my XO but received a head shot from one of my squadmates for his trouble. The other lunged for me but I literally cut him in half with blasts from my -15. The boss called me _**Blade**_ after that and the name stuck. It was the first time I had lost friends in combat. Unfortunately, it would not be the last."

With the engineers work on the outpost nearly completed I was awakened once again in the middle of the night and told to leave at once. It was the cloaked figure as before. My room had been emptied while I slept and my things already loaded for the abrupt reassignment. This time the destination was the SSD _**Devastator**_. There I would catch a shuttle to my new unit and pick up extra gear for the next assignment. Our long final approach was extended due to the seizure of a hostile ship in the main hangar bay.

Various craft circled to other access points on the massive vessel. Small flashes of light illuminated from beneath the Destroyer, but our holding pattern kept us from a direct view of the incident. Our shuttle was finally cleared to approach a small service bay under the bridge. As we touched down, various personnel went about their tasks, business as usual. Whatever was taking place on the other side of the ship was literally of no consequence here.

I worked my way through the endless maze of halls and corridors down through the core of the Destroyer to a central turbolift cluster. After a long descent, the lift doors finally parted to a flurry of activity in a small sub bay where I was to catch another shuttle for the next leg of my journey. There were quite a few Stormtroopers moving at the double quick. A deck hand told me my original flight had been cancelled, but directed me to your ship. I walked over and spoke briefly to a couple of you on the ramp as we were loading up. It was then that I caught sight of the shadowy figure on the gantry, and got the strangest feeling of recognition. I was convinced it had to have been my father.

I know he asked me not to contact him out of concern for me, and I'm sure he has been the one quietly moving me around over the years based on inside intelligence as the situation required. I just wish he could reassign me publicly based on my record. The fact that my new group was full of veterans was a relief. Half of you guys were asleep by the time the engines fired up.

In my minds' eye, I watched as my father, the hangar bay and the _**Devastator**_ were left behind as we fell away, making that long, stomach-dropping arc toward Tatooine."

He took a moment to catch his breath, looking into the licking flames of the fire. "I'm finding it hard letting go of my training. In the Guard, the closer you come to the inner circle of power, the less you are allowed to trust. You're trained to watch everyone, even each other. It's different out here. Being a trooper in the field, your unit is all you have. You have to depend on each other. That's the way it should be. Just bear in mind, and know that it's nothing personal, but until I'm more comfortable, I'm watching each of you closely. We all must have reasons why we were assigned here. It certainly isn't the best post in the Empire."

We all glanced warily around the fire at each other. None of us really knew all of the others, but we would need to rely on each other to make this work. Rogue walked away to check in with Captain Tyrell and his men to let them know of our progress. The rest of us settled a bit more for the night. I wiped the fine, sandy dust from the lenses of my bucket as I sat on the edge of the ramp. As I finished and lay back on the inclined metal plank, I rubbed my head and stared up into the massive expanse of stars looming overhead. Somewhere up there was the _**Devastator**_, and Lord Vader, awaiting the recovery of the stolen data recordings. I closed my eyes and almost immediately drifted off to sleep.

Across the darkened dunes, far away from our small, fire lit encampment in the modest dwelling of an aging knight; after 20 years buried under several layers of personal belongings in a small chest, the lightsaber that had been used to slay Jedi in the final hours of the Temple's grandeur, to slaughter younglings and masters alike with no mercy; this elegant weapon lay poised, ready to return once again to the hand of a Skywalker.

* * *

The stillness of the morning air was almost deafening. I was still reclining on the metal boarding ramp of the Sentinel and had been watching the suns come up when Topolev sat up and rubbed his eyes. I knew we weren't far from the edges of several of the local moisture farms. We had flown over them on the trip out. I wondered if the other 'crawler had ventured in that far to peddle their 'droids to the local farmers? Rogue moved and sat up now as well, noticing a flashing message indicator on his comm link. He noted it was from Tyrell as he listened to the recording. "Damn. He's cutting my search team in half!"

"What is it?" said Falker.

"Tyrell had another shuttle dropped from the _**Devastator**_ overnight. It looks like most of his team was recalled. The destroyer is returning to DS Station and they're going with it. He's going to intercept us this morning and pick up two of his men from our flight crew along with Taka, Danz, Blade, Ddraig and you to help him with his search efforts."

"I don't mind working for Tyrell for a while as long as we find the missing data. Just don't leave me with him. I don't think I could take the guy for long!" said Falker, and he slapped Rogue on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get moving."

"Right", said Rogue, understanding perfectly, "We have a lot of ground to cover, but I think we're close. I can feel it."

The suns were climbing into the sky and the drop ship cruised along, as we searched for the remaining Jawa Sandcrawler. We were skirting the edges of the rocky Jundland Wastes when Tyrell's shuttle intercepted us. We slowed and landed as his ship circled and descended to the sand in front of us.

Rogue sent five of his troops and two of Tyrells troops out of the Sentinel, double-timing it over to the extended ramp of the shuttle.

Tyrell's voice crackled in Rogue's headset, "We'll re-group back in Mos Eisley. Good hunting." He never exited his ship or showed his face. We watched as our troops disappeared up their boarding ramp and the shuttle climbed back into the sky, heading down one of the ravines into the Wastes.

Rogue exhaled under his bucket, "He's trouble."

The ground below became dotted with moisture 'vaporators, spread out in every direction as far as the eye could see as we flew over several sprawling moisture farms. Finally, we came across the remnants of the signature tread trail of the lumbering, mechanical Jawa transport vehicle. After following the tracks for some time, we came over a rise and saw the Sandcrawler we had been searching for.

The pilot banked hard to the right, circling around to the front of the 'crawler and then coming around to hover beside it. The clanking treads of the large vehicle slowed and then stopped moving altogether, as the transport lurched to a halt, steam venting from various ports around the base. There were several moments of silence, then a side hatch opened and a ramp lowered to the ground. Several Jawas came cautiously wandering down the ramp through clouds of venting gases to the sand. Our pilot lowered the hovering Sentinel to the ground and opened the rear hatch. We all filed out and circled around to face the Jawas, leaving him at the controls of the ship.

0600 moved ahead of the rest of us and already had his helmet translator switched on as he approached the leader. He was speaking with him as 4120, Felth and I came walking up.

It was clear the Jawas were anxious as they conversed with us. The leader was scratching his head, appearing to be confused and nervous as he tried to remember the things 0600 was asking for.

"He says he thinks he remembers picking up two bipeds, one of them found out in the dunes, but they sold both just yesterday. One was sold to a moisture farmer and the other to a repair shop in Anchorhead. He's not sure which farm, but thinks it may have been the last one before the Dune Sea."

Tensions were running high. We had been looking for this missing droid now for two days, and Lord Vader was not patient or forgiving.

Felth spoke up, his own patience with the little creatures wearing thin, "We're most likely halfway back to Mos Eisley by now, that's a fair bit of backtracking. Is he sure he has it right, is he sure he isn't hiding something? Maybe we should take a look onboard the 'crawler" and he drew his blaster, pointing it toward the group gathered at the base of the ramp.

The little Jawa was not sure what to make of Felth's comment, or having the blaster pointed at his friends, and became agitated. Several other Jawas on the ramp began jabbering away.

Silently, a small portal in the hull of the Sandcrawler opened and a nozzle protruded past the protective metal armor plating. Topolev noticed the barrel pointing in our direction, and knocked Rogue out of the way, as the Jawas in the 'crawler opened fire on us!

Topolev and Rogue rolled out of the way as the bolt seared past, burning into the already hot sand. Felth swiveled and drew his E-11 Blaster as the little leader Jawa moved out of the line of fire and ran. He took a shot at the little creature, missing. I turned and blasted the little creature off his feet as he ran away.

The Sandcrawler's guns blazed again several more times, as we dove for the sand and took precise aim, returning fire at the turrets and the tread drive mechanisms, blasting them in a shower of sparks, rendering the Crawler defenseless and undriveable. 4120 ran toward the 'crawler and up the main ramp, blasting several Jawas out of his way and hurling a handful of thermal detonators inside. He turned and ran back toward us, Jawas scurrying down the ramp of the vehicle, behind him. He dove for the sand as the devices erupted in a series of violent concussive blasts inside the hulking vehicle. Rogue had not seen him toss the detonators and was turning toward the crawler just as the explosions ripped it apart.

He was knocked off his feet as the whole structure blew outward, armored metal panels hurtling off the vehicle. They flew out and rained down into the sand of the desert around us as the superheated gases and the concussion of the detonator thrust the massive armor plates outward with deadly force, killing anything within the blast radius. I stood up and turned to see the damage, just as our pilot lifted the Sentinel ship from its gear and fired into the command deck of the Crawler.

We were all firing on the fleeing Jawas now, avoiding their blaster fire and taking them out one by one. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The hovering Sentinel settled back into the sand once more. The wisping wind carried the unmistakable, nostril burning stench of charred Jawa flesh as we moved in close to the burned out vehicle. Our rifles were now slung on our shoulders and E-11's drawn for close combat. Etz and 0600 led the way up the ramp into the colossal structure. 4120 and I followed up the ramp as Felth, Topolev, Rogue and 1265 set up a perimeter around the base of the 'crawler, watching all sides for any possible approaching onlookers attracted by the smoking ruin.

It was dark inside. Smoke drifted through the small corridors, and the remnants of dead Jawas were everywhere. We stepped over them and moved higher into the vehicle, making our way around the sites where the detonators had done their damage. Footing was not good, as most of the ramp had been blown away. The bulkhead alongside it had been pierced, exposing the main cargo bay. Several of the detonators had gone off inside and it was now a tangle of metal, droid parts and smoke.

I kicked the dome from a red R5 unit out of the way as we moved still higher to the Command deck and the steering room. Here we saw the damage from the Sentinel's blasts. The hull had been breached by the green burst of energy from our ships' guns. Anything in the path had been vaporized. Black, acrid smoke billowed out of sparking, burning electronics and swirled out the gaping holes in the hull into the desert wind. We all began to search for transfer documents showing any recent sales. A wounded Jawa clawed at 4120's leg, Etz blasted it once in the head to end its misery.

0600 pulled the lifeless bodies of two dead Jawas off a small console and was sifting through some of the documents that had been spread out beneath them as he looked for evidence of the droid sale. There were records showing two sales today so far. One for a machinist droid to the Toshi Station in Anchorhead, and one prior to that, to a moisture farmer, the last farm out before the Dune Sea. The paperwork showed a transfer of 2 droids, a protocol droid and an astromech. He grabbed the paperwork and turned to make his way out of the burning structure, "I've got what we need. Let's take a closer look outside."

The smoke had cleared somewhat and we could now see the bodies of Jawas littering the sand around the base of the 'crawler.

Rogue flipped on his commlink and contacted Captain Tyrell, asking that he check out the machinist 'droid sold to the Tosche Station in Anchorhead, while we doubled back to the moisture farm. The winds were picking up as we walked back to the drop ship. 4120 and I were discussing how to leave the scene, when 0600 and Topolev walked over discussing the sales documents.

I turned to him, "We were just talking about this scene, and how we should leave it. If the locals see Imperials slaughtering Jawas, they're going to know something is up and start asking a lot of questions; questions we don't need, and won't be allowed to answer. If we're going to be stationed here, we need to camouflage this scene; lead the trail away from us." The others nodded in agreement. 0600 turned toward the group, "Etz, untether the Bantha. She just became very important to the mission."

An old woman stepped out of a small building to cross the street, when she stopped herself, and checked both directions carefully, then continued cautiously across the street. Anchorhead was relatively quiet this morning; no damned kids screaming by in their speeders, skyhoppers or swoops.

Catching sight of a small group of Imperial Stormtroopers making their way toward her, she hurried across the street into the building there, and closed the door, watching them nervously as they passed by. Falker had already made a sweep of the perimeter of the buildings at a small repair shop further down the street known as Tosche Station. When he was confident of the number of occupants and their positions, he silently waved to Tyrell and the others to advance to his position. They assembled near him and then fanned out, taking up positions around the station.

Windy laughed, taking his pool shot as Deak watched. "Can you believe Skywalker? First I catch him out in their techdome listening to an Academy recruitment tape while checking out applicant information packets, and then he comes blasting in here yesterday all charged up about a battle over Tatooine, what a joke. Nobody would ever fight for this place. I doubt anyone even knows we still exist way out here."

"Yeah, Wormie's got a big imagination, alright", said Deak, "he's spent too much time in the hot suns fixing 'vaporators. Hey, did he come by for those power converters Fixer set aside for him? If he doesn't, I want them. You got the last pair."

Deak and Windy were arguing over who got the last set of power converters as they played their game and Camie was curled up sleeping in the chair behind Fixer's parts-piled desk when the abrupt invasion occurred. Tyrell burst through the front door of Tosche Station with his blaster drawn as Taka, Danz and Ddraig flooded in after him, herding the startled three young kids to the center of the room.

Falker and Blade escorted a young mechanic in from the maintenance bay in the next room. His sleeves were rolled up and his arms dirtied with grime and vehicle lubricants from the speeder he was working on.

Tyrell spoke, "Now that we have your attention, we will search your building. Laze Loneozner, did you recently purchase a new droid?"

Fixer was shaken, scared and confused as he answered, but tried his best to look calm in front of Camie and the others, "Call me Fixer, everybody calls me . . ."

Tyrell slammed a fist down on the desk, "I don't give a damn about who you are! What about the 'droid?"

A shaking Fixer replied, "Yes, yes I did, I did! I mean we did. I mean, Merle did. Merle Tosche. He owns the place. He told me to get a new machinist 'droid, but he paid for it. I bought it from a Jawa Sandcrawler that came through here yesterday. What does that have to do with anything, though? I've bought and sold a lot of droids, and never had the Empire care about it."

Tyrell gave a small nod. Falker grabbed and folded Fixer's arm high up behind his back, slamming Loneozner's head down on the desk, spare parts clanging to the floor. Fixer winced in pain, Camie recoiled a step, covering her mouth, her face betraying her feelings for him. Tyrell stepped closer and removed his helmet leaning down a bit, sweat dripping from his nose, "Show us the respect we deserve and cooperate . . . ", he was speaking just over Fixer's head as his gaze lifted and came to rest on Camie, " . . . or we will leave your repair station in smoking ruins and take all that is precious to you." Camie, shaking, took a cautious step back as Tyrell's eyes looked her up and down, but Ddraig was there with a blaster in her back to keep her from escaping.

"Take the girl and the others outside, but leave Loneozner here", barked Tyrell, "I want this place turned upside down. NOW!"

0600, Rogue and a disappointed Topolev moved around the scene of the Sandcrawler and dropped several of the Gaffi sticks he had collected in random locations amongst the twisted metal plates and scattered 'droid parts, "I'm keeping one of them!", said Topolev, holding on to the last gaffi. Meanwhile Etz rode the Bantha past the Crawler several times . . . leaving several side-by-side rows of tracks in the sand to give the appearance of many Tuskens riding past.

He continued this exercise until the ground appeared trampled by many of the lumbering beasts moving in a herd. Then he walked her back up the ramp of the Sentinel and slipped off her back, snapping her restraints back into the large ring in the floor. The area now had the look of a confrontation between the Tuskens and the Jawas.

We should be able to successfully avoid any of the local moisture farmers raising questions, and by taking the purchase orders, we had effectively eliminated any evidence of the droids' existence here.

Taking a last look around the site, we retreated up the ramp of the drop ship and lifted skyward. The pilot moved away slightly, then rotated back and fired several shots, scorching the ground where our landing gear had settled, leaving no traces of our presence behind. We banked away from the smoking ruin heading off toward the edge of the Dune Sea, and a moisture farm owned by someone named . . . Lars.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – The Lars Place**

The sand, rock and windswept dunes making up the barren landscape beneath us slid past quickly as we now flew with a purpose toward one of the moisture farms we had passed earlier this morning.

Hopefully the fugitives would soon be in our custody, the stolen data extracted and returned to Lord Vader, and the 'droid or 'droids destroyed. I unclipped my macros from my belt and snapped them on, scanning the horizon for any sign of the moisture farm; nothing yet.

I found myself wondering what could be so important to have rattled Lord Vader so, and why he had been careless enough to allow the data to be stolen by Rebels in the first place.

*

The small domed entrance to the Lars' dwelling finally came into view and the Sentinel flew in low, giving us a good visual scan of the farms layout. The main living quarters and most of the other structures were built beneath ground, with only their roofs protruding up to break the flat, sandy skyline.

All of the buildings appeared to have subterranean corridors that emptied into a common, open-air courtyard pit. The dewbacks groaned and flipped their tails around nervously as the Sentinel settled to the ground, squarely in the center of the now-familiar mechanical tracks that had kicked up the sand in front of the dwelling. The rear doors hissed open, and the gusting, fresh air rushed in to replace the overwhelming stench from the onboard livestock. We walked the length of the rear ramp to the ground outside and circled around toward the domed entrance to the desert homestead.

A scruffy, aging male dressed in well-worn, but presentable desert wraps came walking out to meet us. Etz and Topolev walked to the edge of the pit and peered down into the open courtyard below.

The man's eyes followed them as they walked. Felth hung back a bit with 1265, carefully watching the rest of the farm. 4120, 0600 and I stood with Rogue, who walked up to the man as he verified the name on the purchase order, "Mr. Owen Lars?"

"That's right", Owen nodded.

"We have information that tells us you purchased two 'droids yesterday from a Jawa Sandcrawler, is that correct? " The man squinted a bit, crossing his arms, visibly unnerved by the sudden gathering of Imperial troops on his farm, "Maybe, but why the hell would the Empire care if I buy a couple of 'droids? What's bringing you out this far, this early to question me about buying a 'droid or two?"

Rogue took a step closer to the moisture farmer, "I'll ask the questions." Owen narrowed his eyes even more as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He had always thought it would come to something like this one day. First the astromech spewing gibberish about Obi-Wan Kenobi and now this. He had watched over his step-brother's child for all these years, knowing in the back of his mind that one day, the Empire that had claimed Anakin would be back to claim his son as well. The fact that Kenobi had remained on Tatooine in hiding, carefully watching over the boy from a distance had long foreshadowed this day and the events that were now beginning to unfold. Owen felt sick in the pit of his stomach. His mind raced to Beru, down in the kitchen preparing the days food.

Luckily, Luke had gotten an early start with both new 'droids on an errand and would then be off to repair condensers on the South ridge and not returning for some time. Owen now feared for himself and his wife as he tried to settle back a bit. He had sheltered and protected his _nephew_ from the Empire and crazy Ben Kenobi for too many years to have it all unravel now because of a 'droid searching for the old wizard.

He wished Kenobi and his master, Qui Gon Jinn, had never come to this place. Anakin would have grown up here with his mother, both slaves to Watto. And yet, he would have been far away from the treachery that became the Empire; the treachery and deception that had ultimately twisted him into the cold darkness he now was. Owen's mind was reeling with the chain of events stemming from that fated emergency landing, and the explosive, destructive wave that had swept across the galaxy as a result, now culminating in this meeting with Sandtroopers at his farm on this windy morning. If any one small piece of the puzzle had been different, he might not be in this situation now. With any luck, Luke had already had the astromech's memory flush done.

Owen spoke, "Yeah. I bought two droids yesterday from those filthy, greedy little Jawas. They dumped the grimy 'droids, took my money and headed off in that direction" he said pointing across the Jundland Wastes toward Anchorhead.

Rogue nodded in agreement as Owen finished speaking. "I'm sure they did, but I need to see the 'droids you purchased. One of them may have something that was taken from us, and we want it back."

Owen scowled, "I don't know what you're looking for, dammit, but they aren't here, they've been taken to, uh . . . Mos Espa for some refurbishing. I paid good money for those blasted 'droids and they both still needed work."

Rogue turned to 4120, "Search the farm, we need to be sure they aren't here. You and 0600 check the power generator. Deckard, I want you, Etz and Topolev to check the living quarters. 1265, search the surface structures." Our XO nodded and motioned for the rest of us to follow him.

"I already told you they aren't here", said Owen, uncrossing his arms.

Rogue reflexively responded as did the rest of us, stepping back and leveling our blasters at the scruffily-bearded moisture farmer.

He took a step back, slowly raising his hands. "I have no weapons." Rogue visually scanned the old man and nodded again.

The rest of us backed off and walked toward the entrance dome and the steps leading down into the home, "We'll just wait here Mr. Lars, while we see what my troops turn up."

Owen felt control slipping away and the sickness he felt in his stomach began twisting into a thick knot as the armor-clad Sandtroopers descended the stairs into the homestead his father had built below.

1265 headed off to inspect the roofs and surface structures behind the courtyard pit. Etz and Topolev went off in the direction of the living spaces in search of other family members. Etz followed a drifting smell from what must be a food preparation area, and I went toward the garage. Topolev uncovered a tidy, modest sleeping room for Mr. Lars and his wife, and a second, disheveled sleeping room, which showed signs of someone having been there the night prior, and having left in a hurry.

Etz stepped quietly through the hallways until he heard the churning of food processors and cookers.

"Luke, is that you? Did you forget something?" came a voice from the next room. He descended a few steps and found an old woman preparing drinks for a morning meal.

She turned, expecting to see Luke in the doorway, and instead saw Etz, with his blaster lowered at her. She screamed and dropped the container she held in her hand. The blue, milky liquid inside exploded all over her feet and the floor as it hit the ground. She stood shaking, terrified and transfixed by the sight of the Imperial Sandtrooper in her home. Blue milk dripped from her clothes and the counters.

Etz spoke, "Hold it right there. I don't want to hurt you. We just have a few questions for you and your husband. Who is . . . Luke?"

*

I descended a short flight of stairs and crossed a narrow gridded gantry through a dark garage area where it appeared several vehicles were stored.

There was an empty, open bay with some tools and parts lying about, and then a second bay with a T-16 Skyhopper parked in it; hardly the norm for aging moisture farmers. I continued on and the gantry emptied out into a grungy, well-worn techdome; a repair center for condensors, vaporators and other farm machinery, including droids.

The room had the smell of heavy oils, burnt wiring and exhaust residue. I stepped down to the gridded center deckplate in the center of the stone room and slowly looked around. Protruding from another parking bay adjacent to the oil bath facility was the nose of a multi-passenger, V-35 landspeeder; a bit more in line with our residents' age and driving needs.

I poked around, looking over the repair benches as lights silently winked on and off on the wall control panels. The oil bath was calibrated to accommodate a plunge depth for a human-sized, bi-pedal protocol 'droid. Then a hooked tool and a small, round lump of metal on one of the repair benches caught my eye. I removed my left hand from under the muzzle of my blaster, and picked up the small object. It was a restraining bolt, the kind used to keep 'droids from wandering off. I looked around the room again and pulled off my bucket, holding the bolt close to my nose to smell it. There was a strong burnt odor and a loose black powdery residue, indicating it had been removed recently. I slipped my bucket back on and headed back toward the surface to show Rogue and the others what I had found.

*

I stepped off the top step and out of the domed doorway into the sand. 4120 stood beside Rogue. Felth, Topolev and 1265 now formed a line between the small gathering and the Sentinel. Etz had found a woman and brought her out. She stood beside her husband, shivering with fear as the cool morning wind blew over us. Rogue had his blaster trained on Lars and Etz had his blaster leveled at the small of the woman's back. I walked closer, rolling the restraining bolt over in my hand. I could hear Rogue speaking to them now, ". . . so then, what you're telling me is that you did buy the 'droids, but they never even made it inside your place? You sent them right off to Mos Espa for refitting and refurbishment?"

Owen nodded.

Then Etz spoke up, "Who is Luke? Your wife called out to Luke when I came walking in on her."

The moisture farmer looked flustered for a second, then recovered with his reply, "Luke was a hired hand that we just lost a week or so ago. He worked on the vaporators. That's why I needed the droids, to fill his spot."

Etz was not convinced. "The woman seemed to think he had forgotten something and had come back for it. Doesn't sound like an _ex _farmhand to me."

The whole situation was beginning to just not smell right. I looked down at the restraining bolt in my hand and spoke up to the group as Topolev stepped closer, "I found this in their tech dome" tossing the bolt to 0600 who looked it over as I continued. "It's been recently removed from a 'droid, and their oil bath was last calibrated for a bi-pedal protocol model." Rogue turned to stare Owen in the eyes.

4120 and Topolev looked at each other as the latter spoke up, "We didn't see any 'droids down there except a worn out old power droid and a broken Treadwell."

Rogue turned his attention back to Owen, "I'm going to ask you one last time. Think carefully before you answer. Who is Luke, and where are your 'droids?"

Owen glanced at Beru as she shook in fear, staring back at him. He turned thoughtfully back to Rogue, "You've already decided to kill us haven't you? You can't have any witnesses to what you're searching for. We're too much of a liability, aren't we?"

Beru remained silent. She knew they had to protect Luke, or everything they had worked for over the years would be for nothing. She lunged at the thermal detonator on Topolev's belt, unclipping and activating it, holding it high in the air over her head. All of our blasters leveled at the old woman as Felth and 1265 stepped closer, blasters raised. She shook and trembled, as we backed away from her and the clicking detonator.

She and Owen backed away from us toward the domed entrance to their home. "You can't have Luke, and you won't be killing any of us over a 'droid. It's, it's you who'll be dying today!" And, as she moved to throw the detonator at us, 0600, 4120 and I blasted through her forearm at the wrist, severing it from her. The detonator released and dropped at their feet. Owen grabbed his wife as she screamed in pain, and they turned their backs to the device, as we scattered for cover. The concussion of the blast knocked us all into the sand. When we stood and turned to face the grisly sight, there was little left of the moisture farmer and his wife.

The blast had wiped the flesh from their bones, as neatly as you might wipe dirt from your clothing. All that remained were two smoking skeletons lying beside the stairs. Whoever Luke was, he was definitely on his own now.

"Burn it. Burn it all", said Rogue, "I don't want any traces of our presence left here" and he walked away, pulling off his bucket, pushing past us.

Felth and 1265 stood guard as Etz, Topolev, 4120, 0600 and I disappeared down the stairs to set the charges. A short time later we all made our way out of the lower levels and headed for the drop ship. Suddenly, the ground beneath our boots shook violently as the first of our charges detonated. A large geyser of sand shot skyward over the farm as still more charges erupted beneath the surface. Smoke billowed from the open pit, the roof of the tech dome and other surface structures as the living quarters beneath were consumed in fire.

Our job here was finished.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – A Wretched Hive**

Blade and Ddraig had moved Windy, Deak and Camie out of the office and had them sitting on rocks, leaning against the stone retaining wall on the back side of the Power Station as they waited. Falker, Danz and Taka completed the search inside with Tyrell. Camie seemed to have shed her fear and become amused with the whole invasion. She sat apart from the others and was laughing when she spoke to Ddraig as he passed by in front of her, "You won't find anything. Fixer doesn't have anything that belongs to you, and if the 'droid he bought has something of yours, take it and leave us alone."

Ddraig grinned beneath his bucket as he leaned closer to Blade, "She's a feisty one." Falker appeared above them, peering down from the courtyard above the wall, "Bring 'em in. Danz just finished scanning the 'droid, there's nothing here. Tyrell is done. We're headed back to the city."

Camie stood up with Deak and Windy, "See. I told you."

* * *

The Corellian YT-1300 coasted on her repulsor-field above the spaceport of Mos Eisley as the harbor master granted Captain Solo clearance to land. The ship rolled to the right, then leveled off as she silently disappeared down into the pit of docking bay 94. In the Captain's chair, Solo began shutting down the systems as the Wookiee sitting beside him began updating the 'nav computer files. He stood to leave the cockpit and a dangling pair of metallic chance cubes hanging from the overhead instruments struck him squarely on the forehead. "OW! Chewie, Take these things down, will ya?" This time it was the Wookiee that woofed a laugh at his friend. An annoyed Solo rubbed his head as he turned and walked out.

* * *

We had been cruising toward Mos Eisley in silence for some time when Rogue unbuckled and stepped across the aisle sitting in the jumpseat between me and 0600. "I just received word from Captain Tyrell. Their group is wrapping things up in Anchorhead. They've completed their investigation of the machinist 'droid sold to the Toshi Station. He says the manager, a repair mechanic, told him he just bought the 'droid yesterday and paid in full with Imperial credits." Rogue flipped on his holonet field pack and showed us an image of the Anchorhead site as he spoke. Felth and Topolev leaned in to see.

"The mechanic, his girlfriend and several local kids were hanging out in the station when our troops arrived. The 'droid in question was fully scanned, but our missing data was not found. Tyrell and our troops tore the shop apart, scanning and looking for it, but they found nothing. All of the occupants of the shop were questioned thoroughly. The owner and his friends seemed surprised when the Lars' place was mentioned. They said the old guy was a bitter old tightwad, and hadn't bought anything from the Jawas in several seasons.

The mechanic, _Fixer_, said _Wormie_ had to work constantly to keep the old, broken-down 'droids and 'vaporators on the Lars place running. He also said Wormie was overdue to pick up some refurbished power converters he had stripped off several wrecked Landspeeders. After further questioning it came out that _Wormie_ was Lars' nephew, Luke. I told him that checked out with what we found at the Lars place."

He paused a moment, taking a breath. "We have to keep that missing data from making it off-world, and I think the missing nephew, _Luke_, is the key".

We all nodded in agreement. Rogue stood and keyed on his commlink as he walked back to his seat, calling our snitch to alert him.

"So Luke is the nephew, not a farmhand after all" said Etz.

0600 went back to cleaning his rifle, as I leaned my head back on the vibrating bulkhead and thought, if I were a young farmboy and wanted to make it off-world with two 'droids, I would be looking for a ship and a pilot. I would have to be looking in Mos Eisley. According to Rogue, as sparsely populated as Tatooine is, there's no other major spaceport to be found. We were going to need strategic roadblocks and patrols monitoring the spaceport docking pits closely, and we'd need it quickly. That was the only way we would have a chance at locating the missing boy before he slipped away with one, possibly two 'droids and information so sensitive that it unnerved even Lord Vader.

What the hell kind of information was that 'droid carrying?

*

We marched through the streets of Mos Eisley in the mid-day sun as I went over and over the events of the busy morning we had had. The flight back from the moisture farm had been a quiet one. Nobody had spoken of what had happened. The 104th Moisture Farm Patrol, or _MFP_, had been assembled from troops posted all over the known galaxy and sent here to enforce Imperial law without the backing of the Empire or the Legion, and keep the peace among the low-life 'citizens' so the moisture farmers could bring in their harvests without fear. It was their job to keep the planet supplied with the water it needed to continue on. To continue on so the Empire would still have a connection to the low-life 'citizens' when they needed certain services. It was a sick cycle. Keep the scum in check, cultivate it and allow it to grow until you needed it, until it served your purpose.

A ragged old man sitting in the sand with his back resting against a wall looked up at us as we passed. He wore tattered wraps and his face was covered in flight goggles and a layer of loose fabric to keep the sand out. He reached out a hand, begging for money. His left forearm was covered in tattoos of women and starships that disappeared up under the loose sleeves of his garment.

We ignored his plea for help and kept moving.

This morning at the Lars' place had been an exercise in how things shouldn't go, and yet, not one of us could have predicted that lunge for the detonator, that fear that drove the old woman to rise up against us, to die so horribly while protecting another. We had arrived on this planet in the midst of something far larger than some stolen intelligence recordings. I could feel it, deep down in my core. There were forces at play here that went far beyond the scope of a few missing 'droids and some stolen data.

I tried to put it out of my mind as our formation came to a stop. We were at the crossing of the main road into town, and the one leading to the spaceport. Captain Tyrell turned to Rogue, "My troops are going to set up several scattered roadblocks. A few of them will set up stations on the side streets heading to the spaceport. I'll man the checkpoint here and question everyone entering the city. You take your men and start a door-to-door search for our missing farmboy and his 'droid. Hopefully we can keep them from slipping by."

Rogue responded, "I agree with the roadblocks, but I was going to have our troops stationed out in the corridors leading to the spaceport. We have developed a working relationship with a local that may be a very good source of information for us. He suggested that we position ourselves there to be most effective. I don't think a door to door search would prove to be . . ."

Tyrell ripped off his helmet and spun back to Rogue, stepping in close to our CO, "Let me make one thing painfully clear to you. I'm not impressed with your group of outcasts and the dirty gear you don't bother to clean. Yes, I know where most of you have been called in from, and I have never understood the Sandtrooper mentality. You can bet after my troops return to the Devastator, they'll be cleaning their gear before returning to their normal assignments. I am in command of this search and recovery mission, and report directly to Lord Vader. We don't need to drag the local scum into this. At least I speak for my troops when I say we don't need any local help. I'm keeping the troops I have from your unit to help man my roadblocks. Felth, you fall in with my group too. Get on with your assignment, 1009."

Rogue slowly nodded once, his dislike for Tyrell growing; wishing this encounter had occurred in one of the dark mineshafts on Kessel where no one would have heard the screams he was imagining and the good Captain would have disappeared without a trace, "Yes sir".

Tyrell and several of his men walked to the opposite corner of the street and stopped a merchant with an aging Treadwell 'droid. Rogue nodded to Danz, Blade, Ddraig, Taka, Falker and Felth as they followed Tyrell. The rest of us continued on to the next side street and began inspections of the shops and residences we found. We searched one quickly and moved along to the next.

*

We had just finished our sweep of a fairly tall building and were on the roof, taking a moment to catch our breath and sip some distilled water from our packs. It was scorching hot and we had been searching without a break for some time.

Rogue, disgusted, pulled off his bucket as he took out his commlink and called out to Garindan. There was a crackle of silence for a moment or two, and then the voice of our snitch, "I am your eyes and ears, sir, what can I do for you?"

The CO thought for a second and then spoke into the tiny commlink microphone, "The Captain has ordered us to perform a door-to-door search. We won't be able to patrol the spaceport as we discussed. I want you to position yourself in that general area and inform me if you see any new faces, or anyone that appears out of place. The boy we're searching for will be accompanied by a 'droid or two. Definitely a bi-pedal protocol model and possibly an astromech model and will be looking for passage off-world."

"As you wish, sir" came the reply. Rogue clipped the commlink back on his belt and pulled his bucket back on as we left the roof to continue our search sweeps.

*

A gigantic Ronto strode through the sandy streets under the beating sun as a battered old landspeeder came around a turn and into view. Tyrell held a hand up, motioning for the young male driver to come to a stop. Davin Felth moved to the rear of the speeder and the captain stepped up to the driver as he eyed the two stowed 'droids riding in the back . . . a protocol 'droid and a blue astromech.

"How long have you had these 'droids?"

The boy responded, "'Bout three or four seasons."

The old man sitting beside him turned to face Tyrell and chimed in now, "They're up for sale, if you want them."

Tyrell, completely wrapped up in his self-importance, continued, pressing the occupants for more information, "Let me see your identification".

The old man leaned in closer, across the cockpit, now staring intently at the captain and making a small circle with his fingers as he spoke, "You don't need to see his identification".

Tyrell seemed dazed as a moment passed, and then he slowly and very deliberately repeated the old man's words, "We don't need to see his identification".

The Cloaked and hooded old man spoke again, "These aren't the 'droids you're looking for".

As if drugged, Tyrell looked up and spoke now to the members of the 104th working with him, "These aren't the 'droids we're looking for."

Playing a mental game, and manipulating the feeble-minded captain, the old man spoke again, "He can go about his business . . ."

We couldn't believe what we were hearing. The old man was not only avoiding Tyrell's questions, he was telling him what to say! Felth stared at his captain now with complete disbelief as again Tyrell echoed the old man, "You can go about your business."

The old man spoke once more, now finished with the minor annoyance of Captain Tyrell, and looking away, down the street, expecting to be forgotten within several moments, ". . . move along."

Again, the stunned Captain Tyrell chimed in, wrapping up the encounter and sending the speeder on its way, "Move along . . . MOVE ALONG."

They boy complied, and the well-worn speeder pulled away, heading deeper into the city. The troopers of the MFP stared at each other in disbelief. TD-8733, Danz, was the first to break the long silence and speak, "What are you doing? Why would you let them go? They're the strongest match to the profile so far, and you just let them ride away without so much as a second glance, much less a questioning."

Tyrell became terribly indignant as he rubbed his aching head, "What are you talking about? I didn't do any such thing." The MFP troopers standing around the speeder glanced at each other in disbelief as Tyrell moved to stop the next vehicle. The old man, the boy and the two 'droids had now disappeared into the city.

*

Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina, or the Mos Eisley Cantina as it was better known, was situated near the heart of the marketplace and a short walk from the spaceport. When the current proprietor, Chalmun the Wookiee, took ownership, there were Imperial Troopers from the old squad crawling all over the place. It seems that the previous owners, the Vriichon brothers, had been running an illegal spice den on the site and for some time had been burying the bodies of those who got in their way in the basement. The frenzy surrounding the scandal eventually died down, and Chalmun had completely renovated the place in an effort to help people forget.

Since then, Chalmun's Cantina has always been considered to be _**the place**_ in Mos Eisley to hire or be hired, for pretty much anything one might be interested in. It was a shadowy, cool Oasis from the relentless heat of the desert and a haven for locals and pilot regulars with downtime to burn while in port.

The worn, brown landspeeder that Tyrell had mysteriously allowed to pass into the city skimmed down the street and floated to a stop adjacent to the front entrance of the cantina.

The old man and the boy climbed out and headed inside as the protocol biped lowered the squat body of the astromech unit to the ground and followed the humans toward the door.

Inside, the Bith band was pumping out their rhythmic sound over the low roar of dozens of conversations, filling the smoky bar with an upbeat ambience.

The old man knew the cantina well, having frequented numerous times over the years. He slipped into the crowd, heading for the bar as the farmboy was directed by Wuher, the bartender, to leave his 'droids outside.

The youth turned and addressed the issue with the gold protocol 'droid, sending both mechanicals back out to the speeder. Turning, the boy stepped down into the main room and approached the bar. Wuher felt a tugging at his shirt, and turned around to face the young man. Without changing his vacant, gruff gaze, he filled and served the drink order without a word. Then he moved away, leaving the boy standing with his drink beside the Aqualish regular, Ponda Baba, and his companion, Dr. Evazon, a human with a horribly disfigured face.

Garindan, our informant from the planet Kubaz, sipped cool water and sat at a table watching the room as the new arrivals settled into the smoky den. He knew that anyone looking to get off-world quickly would most likely come here to hire the ride. His sensitive eyes rolled left and right beneath his protective dark goggles. He watched as the boy that had entered with the 'droids took a sip of his drink. The old man that came in with him was talking to a pilot at the bar with his back to the youth.

Evazon tapped the boy on the shoulder, and started a conversation. The boy didn't seem interested in talking, but Evazon persisted. Garindan swept his eyes over the bar, settling on Mamaw Nadon, the Ithorian hammerhead in one of the rear booths with the locals Muftak and Kabe. His eyes darted back to the boy as the old man turned and took control of the conversation with Evazon. The good doctor howled, shoving the boy out of the way as he drew his blaster and stepped toward the old man. As the youngster fell backward, he crashed into a table, knocking it over in a spray of spilled drinks and gaming chips.

The band stopped playing, and all eyes were on the scene at the bar. Wuher yelled, "No Blasters! No Blasters!" and dove behind the bar away from the two. Evazon squeezed off a shot which was deflected when suddenly the dim light of the room was shattered as a meter-long shaft of blue energy sprang from a grip in the old man's hand. Then the shimmering, humming blade flicked down and up in a series of precise, controlled strokes, severing Evazon's hand and the arm of Ponda Baba as he rushed to help his friend. They both slumped, howling to the floor, leaving the old man standing alone at the bar. He held the blade defensively before his face as his eyes swept over the room, giving a brief, momentary glimpse of the warrior he once was.

He extinguished the blade, returning the handle to a clip on his belt as he moved to help the boy up from the ground. Wuher gave the band a glare, and they began playing again, as if nothing had happened. An intrigued Garindan took another sip of his water as the old man and the boy followed a towering Wookiee to an alcove table in the back of the bar. The Kubaz spy stopped a human patron passing his table. He handed the human a few credits and sent him out the front door of the bar. He watched him leave, then turned to keep an eye on the aging warrior, the boy, the Wookiee and the Corellian pilot with the red blood stripe on his trousers.

*

Outside the bar, the human patron counted the credits in his hand as he walked out into the street and approached us. "Hey! There's been a scuffle inside there. The hermit just took out two guys at the bar with a lightsaber! Crazy Jedi wannabe." They spoke for a few moments more and he gestured once again back toward the cantina as across the street, the farmboy's 'droids watched from their position beside the battered, brown speeder.

A few moments later, Etz and I walked through the front door of the cantina, rifles at the ready, stepping down into the main room, pushing past several regulars lounging on the steps.

We approached the bar, the crowd parting as we drew near. Etz spoke to Wuher, "We heard there was a disturbance in here." Wuher gestured to the back of the room, pointing to the old man. We saw who he had indicated, and I replied, "Alright, we'll check it out."

We both stepped around the end of the bar, wading through the scum clientele and past both dismembered arms on the floor toward a small recessed booth in the rear of the room, where Wuher said the old man and the kid had gone after the incident. The pilot I remembered from our first day at the docking bay sat there with his Wookiee companion, alone now. No old man, no kid.

I led the way past the table, Etz followed, stopping momentarily to lock eyes with the cocky Corellian pilot and the Wookiee.

We worked our way past them, as there was no sign of the others, and continued on toward the rear door, exiting to the street outside. They were nowhere in sight. "I don't like this", I said, "I feel like we're really close, and I think they just hired a pilot. Let's go let Rogue and the others know what we found. No commlinks. I don't want Tyrell in on this."

* * *

It was now well past mid-day and the troops at all of our posts were growing restless. The crowds on the streets above the marketplace were filled with people, making our search efforts all the more difficult.

TK-1138, one of Tyrell's men, meandered away from his post, following a side street, then down a series of steps into the partial shade, and was checking the area surrounding the central marketplace, as the others continued with their interrogations. Satisfied with his quick look around and the nice break from the direct sun, he turned around to head back and rejoin his group when he saw a young man, an old man and two 'droids; one bi-pedal protocol and an astromech coming toward him.

They stopped dead in their tracks as his gaze moved from the 'droids back to the humans and he locked eyes with the smiling old man.

The sudden static burst broadcast over our comm channels was almost deafening. I dialed down the volume as my helmet display showed that it was originating on a frequency from one of the Devastator's troopers, TK-1138. Rogue clicked on his chin mic and paged the trooper. When he got no response, our little group double-timed it through the streets, following the signal source indicator. We made our way down several flights of stairs that led through a terraced marketplace.

There were twisting corridors and alleys lined with citizens and merchants. We passed a small 'droid sale lot, a used speeder lot and wormed our way through the crowd as the beacon indicated we were almost on top of it.

Suddenly Rogue stopped dead in his tracks; 4120 and I almost colliding with him from the abruptness. He turned and backtracked several steps, peering down a side alley.

There, a few steps into the shadows, in the center of the path was the source of the comm static. The missing trooper was lying face down, neatly cut in half. His torso lay to one side of the path, his lower body and legs to the other side, the wound cauterized from some great heat. His helmet had been thrown loose as he hit the ground and had rolled up against one of the stone walls. His E-11 had been sliced down the center from front to rear. A hand and several fingers lay beside it in the sand. We all stared in disbelief for a heartbeat, then jerked our eyes upward, scanning the rooftops and alleyways to see if we could catch a glimpse of someone that might have committed this crime, or someone who might have seen who did. There was no one to be found.

We fanned out to search as Rogue knelt down and picked up the helmet. He pulled his own off, and reached inside TK-1138's, flipping a tiny switch. The information display flickered with static for a moment, and then Rogue was able to see what 1138 had seen in his last moments . . . a few alleys, some stairs, a used 'droid lot, a speeder salesman, a few citizens scurrying to get out of his way. Then he stopped walking, turned to the left and looked down an alley, then back to the right to check the other direction.

The silent image flickered on the tiny screen inside the dead trooper's helmet. It showed him turning around to go back up the stairs, and then, in center frame was an old man in a hooded robe, a young man and two droids . . . a bi-ped and an astromech. The old man was smiling as he raised his empty hand from beneath his cloak to wave, but instead, thrust his palm out forcefully toward the camera as his stance lowered and centered, feet planted wide. The trooper and his camera were then thrown into the air and back several paces across the alley into a wall. A flash of white light blipped across the screen from the jarring impact to the camera and then the image returned, white levels recalibrating as its' owner fell to the ground.

1138 rolled and stood up quickly, the dirt of the ground rushing across the little screen. He looked up at a wall as he regained his feet and whirled around toward his attacker, E-11 drawn and held out in the lower portion of the video frame. An energy bolt flew from the barrel of the blaster toward the old man's head. In a blur of motion, a blue energy blade flicked up and into the path of the red bolt. There was a flash as the shot collided with and ricocheted off the shimmering blade, inches from the old man's head. The protocol 'droid shrank in fear, and the boy stared in disbelief. The trooper involuntarily glanced to follow the blocked bolt.

Rogue's brow furrowed with concern as he continued to watch the recording. 1138 looked back to the man in brown just as a sweeping arc of blue energy flashed down through the blaster in his hands, splitting it in two, taking off the fingers that were wrapped beneath the muzzle and the hand on the grip as well. He looked at his severed fingers on the left hand and the smoking wrist-stump on his right arm, then looked up as the blue blade blurred once again, slicing through the air and down toward his waist, then there was static.

Rogue switched off the recording and looked back over to the two sections of 1138's body and the assorted hand parts. "A Jedi? Here? I thought they had been exterminated long ago?" His mind reeled with all the possible implications stemming from this discovery. He pulled his bucket back on and clicked the comm with his chin, "All members of the MFP, report to the main corridor leading to the plaza in the lower marketplace immediately." Then he keyed his handheld and paged Garindan.

*

All of our men heard the message over their comm sets, turned to look at each other and took off running down the main street toward the plaza. Tyrell yelled at the top of his lungs for them to stop, spewing various threats about what happens to troopers who desert their posts.

They never looked back.

*

Rogue, 0600, 4120, 1265, Etz and I were waiting in the open plaza next to the used speeder lot when Danz, Falker, Taka, Ddraig and Blade appeared out of one of the hallways. 0600 waved them over as he spoke to Rogue, "The guy running the speeder lot says he just bought this brown, junker landspeeder from a young kid and an old man. He didn't see any 'droids, but the description he gave fits the two we're looking for. These two are very dangerous."

1265 laughed, turning to Danz.

0600 turned to face him, "The old man took out 1138 and left pieces of him scattered all over the alley over there if you have any doubts." The laughter stopped immediately.

Rogue stepped forward, "The snitch doesn't have anything yet, but he's working on it now. I want us to stay together and move through the corridor leading to the docking bays. If they have bothered to come this far dragging two 'droids, they're going be trying to leave on a ship from one of these bays. We need to be nearby and ready, I don't care what Tyrell says."

As he said this Tyrell stepped off the bottom step from the streets above and walked over to us. "You and your men are all going to find yourself in the brig for deserting your posts and . . . "

Rogue interrupted, "I've had enough of you. 1138 is dead. An old man traveling with the farmboy left him in several pieces down that alley." Tyrell had no memory of the old man and young kid from the street. "Your roadblocks aren't doing the job, Tyrell, they're already here! And I don't care if you DO report directly to Lord Vader, this city is now OUR jurisdiction and you are a guest in it. We're officially operating _outside_ the Empire. I suggest you remember _that_, Captain, or you might find yourself the victim of an unfortunate accident."

Danz moved closer to Rogue, "You said it was an old man and a kid. Was the old guy wearing a hood?"

Rogue nodded.

Danz turned to the others that had been with him at the roadblock and then over to Tyrell as he pulled off his bucket, "The Captain here stopped that old man and the kid out on the road earlier today. He was asking for the kid's identification and then the old man spoke up saying we didn't need to see it. Tyrell kept repeating everything the old guy said and then told them they could go about their business and let them go!"

Tyrell glared at Danz, "I did not! We never stopped an old man and a boy!" The rest of the roadblock crew pulled off their buckets, "Yes you did, you don't remember? You let the guy talk back to you and then LET HIM GO! How can you not remember?"

Rogue pulled off his bucket and glanced over to 0600 and on to me, "Based on what we saw on 1138's holo-recorder, as incredible as it seems, I would say it was a Jedi mind trick." I slowly nodded thoughtfully in agreement.

Tyrell spewed, "Jedi mind trick? The Jedi are extinct!" and pushed his way through us to find his troops, "Lord Vader will not find this little joke amusing."

Rogue held up the dead troopers' bucket and played the holo recording again for the others to see firsthand what had happened. As the entry ended the others looked back at the broken body of 1138.

Rogue's commlink crackled on his belt, "I have something for you, sir." Garindan had been busy watching, that's what he did. He was a people-watcher, a silent observer from the shadows.

Rogue unclipped the mic "Yes, what do you have?"

The electronic voice squawked back, "They're on their way to one of the docking bays. Meet me in the main hallway. I am at bay 85." Then the line went dead.

I had been standing close enough to hear the exchange. "The Wook and the Corellian" I whispered quietly as I glanced over at 0600.

The veranda of the Palace was richly bathed in an orange glow as Bail Organa stood at the railing watching the sun setting far out on the horizon of his beloved Alderaan.

His mind was filled with thoughts of his daughter, her safety, and of her new, secretive involvement in the growing Rebellion movement against the Empire. He was overrun with memories of the destruction he had seen unfold across the galaxy during the Clone Wars and how it had nearly destroyed this place.

At the close of the Clone Wars, he and the other leaders of Alderaan had gathered every single weapon on the planet and loaded it onto a huge armory ship aptly renamed _**Another Chance**_.

He remembered setting the nav' computer coordinates to have it continually jump through hyperspace on an elliptical course around the galaxy until such a time, if ever, that the Council of Elders decided the weapons were needed. From that day forward, Alderaan became known as a peaceful, art and technology-loving world with no weapons. He hoped his beautiful planet would stay that way, and that the royal involvement with the Rebellion would not create a need for them far sooner than anyone could have thought possible.

His gaze wandered across the darkening sky, taking in the incredible view. He was turning to re-enter the palace when something caught his eye, making him turn back to look closer. Something was moving in front of the setting sun. It wasn't a ship, in fact it wasn't even anything within the atmosphere.

Something of enormous size moving through the heavens, slipping between Alderaan and her star was eclipsing the setting sun as he watched.

His mind raced as he watched. None of the small moons orbiting Alderaan had the size to do what he was seeing, and those moons were flattened, irregular rocks, more like asteroids. This obstruction was round, perfectly round.

He rushed back to the railing, clenching it tightly as starlight finally broke around the edge of the obstruction.

His eyes grew wide as the realization of what was happening washed over him, "After all these years of . . . how could they . . . how could we not have known that they . . . Oh my God . . .they actually built it!"

Garindan's message had given us a target. We all pulled on our buckets and headed off down the hallway toward the spaceport and the docking bays.

Tyrell had re-grouped his men and had them patrolling the street just outside the docking bays, watching for 'droids. Davin Felth was turned away, listening to something on his comm, something that sounded important. He thought about sharing the information with Tyrell, then thought better of it, and slipped away from the main group heading toward the docking bays. Tyrell saw him leaving, and followed.

*

0600 looked up as Felth joined us. He caught up to us as we headed through the narrow alley. "I've been monitoring your frequency since Tyrell let the old man and the kid go. I don't trust him, haven't since I got transferred to his division. I figure you know more about what's going on here than he does."

As he fell in with our formation, several others from Tyrell's group appeared as well, weapons on and ready. They wanted a blood payment for 1138's death.

We all marched with a purpose now through the city, people scurrying to move out of our way as we struck an imposing image bearing down on them. Captain Tyrell followed a few moments later.

We came around a corner to find Garindan leaning against one of the shadowy walls. Rogue stepped up to him, "Which way?"

Garindan squawked "Bay 94!"

Rogue turned to us, "Alright men, load your weapons."

Felth sprinted to the front of the pack, hurrying past Rogue as we headed toward bay 94. He must really feel the need to prove himself to someone, I thought, as we marched; maybe it was to himself.

I thought sure we would have been heading back to bay 85, to that battered YT-1300 freighter, the Corellian and the Wookiee. I had a very bad feeling about this. It was all wrong. I know that old man and the kid talked to the Wook in the bar, unless they were passed off to another ship?

We all hurried down the dark, narrow steps toward the bay. I could hear sand being ground beneath our boots on the stone stairs and the high pitch of our blaster power cells cycling up toward full and ready.

Felth and Rogue spilled out into the dim recesses of the entry to the bay. The freighter from bay 85 was in here now. Etz and I _had_ been right!

I could see the Wookiee in the cockpit removing something that was hung from the overhead instruments. The Corellian human was uncoupling fueling lines and closing the access hatch when Rogue gave his order, "Stop that ship . . . blast 'em."

As he spoke, time seemed to slow and barely move at all. The Corellian pilot's eyes grew wide as Felth and Rogue fired on him, narrowly missing.

With a lightning-quick reflex, he had drawn his thigh-holstered blaster and returned their fire. Taka shoved Rogue forward to the sandy floor, saving him, as the wall above them both exploded, blowing a fueling line wildly through the air. It slammed into Taka's back and burst out through his chest, spraying blood across his white armor and the sandy floor. Topolev and Danz ran across to find cover behind some supply crates. Rogue dove into a tucked roll and came up firing.

Tyrell's men pushed ahead of us, wanting revenge for the death of TK-1138. Several were cut down by the wild blaster fire of the cornered Corellian. Etz, 0600, Ddraig, 4120, Blade and I poured into the open space along with them, all firing at the fleeing pilot as he quickly retreated up the entry ramp into his ship, firing back at us as he ran. Tyrell raced off the steps behind us and opened fire as well.

Several of the bolts flew past us, Etz whirled away just in time, falling to the ground, as 4120 and I ducked behind the cover of the stone walls. We were no good to the Empire dead. There was a flash of light as another violent volley of blaster fire was exchanged from the Corellian and both Felth and Tyrell. Somewhere during the exchange, Tyrell was hit and went down.

1265 grabbed Taka's arm and dragged his body back to the bottom of the steps as Ddraig covered him, firing on the Corellian.

The ship's inner airlock door slammed down and sealed as the boarding ramp was hoisted and locked, sealing the ship. I glanced up at the cockpit again as we charged forward, firing at the hull. The Wookiee was now seated there working furiously to get the ship ready to lift off, as his human companion burst into the seat beside him. The deafening drone of the customized engines drowned out all other sound as they energized. All energy moorings fell away from the freighter, and her shields came online, absorbing our blaster fire.

The invisible push of the ships' anti-grav repulsor field thrust down hard on the floor of the bay, slamming into our chests and throwing us all back several steps as suddenly the ship unceremoniously and unsteadily rose up over the rim of the docking bay pit.

She pivoted sharply and her main engines fired as soon as her front forks cleared the rim, in direct violation of the surface-proximity replusorlift restrictions set by the spaceport authority.

Alarm claxons were now blaring as I fired one last shot toward the ship that was tearing away in an upward arc over the city and heading rapidly for the stars. All we could do was watch it go. Falker was trying to reach the port master for information on the escaping ship. Danz cursed and blasted one of the scurrying pit 'droids in frustration, as I pulled off my bucket and rubbed my throbbing forehead, then raised my blaster and destroyed the wailing alarm claxon on the wall above us.

Rogue and 0600 moved past Ddraig and 1265 at the base of the steps to see to Taka.

*

On the streets above, Tyrell's men whirled from their checkpoint duties in time to watch a beat-up Corellian stock light freighter blast its way out of the docking bays below and climb rapidly out of sight into the cloudless, pale-blue Tatooine afternoon sky.

Rogue watched the 'Falcon racing skyward. Tyrell, lying face up in the sand also saw the escape. He closed his eyes. Through the pain he slowly realized that he had most likely allowed the data he was searching for to slip from almost within his grasp, to well beyond his reach.

Rogue ripped off his helmet and knelt beside the injured Captain, spewing furiously, "They're gone, Tyrell! They just tore out of here heading offworld. Three of your men are dead and so is Taka. You've got a lot of explaining to do. Your checkpoints didn't work exactly as you had planned, sir." With that he stood up and went to see about Taka.

As Rogue finished, Tyrell lifted his bucket to his face and clicked his chin-activated comm switch, hailing the command deck on one of the Star Destroyers blockading far above. "_**Tyrant**_, come in _**Tyrant**_, this is Captain Tyrell." His comm crackled a moment before a response came.

"Captain Tyrell, this is the _**Conquest**_. _**Tyrant**_ is resetting their communications grid. What can we do for you?"

Tyrell grimaced in pain as he continued, the helmet shaking in his hands "_**Conquest**_, the package we have been searching for is on a freighter heading your way." Under the intense heat of the Tatooine suns he felt a cold sweat trickling off the top of his head, "I need a clear channel to the Death Star. Put me through to Lord Vader."

A moment of silence passed, then the communications officer responded, "I'm sorry sir, he's on his way to a meeting with the Grand Moff Tarkin and a prisoner at the moment, but I assure you, I will have him speak to you as soon as he is free."

Princess Leia Organa had witnessed the end of her homeworld, and had been escorted away, back to her cell on the detention level. Tarkin had returned to his private chambers to go over the status reports coming in from around the station on the performance of the Superlaser units. Only Vader had remained behind, to speak with a Sandtrooper on Tatooine.

The Death Star communications officer switched off the comm, silencing the gurgling, gasping sounds of a dying Captain Tyrell lying on the sandy floor of docking bay 94 in Mos Eisley. The dark form of Darth Vader seemed even darker as he stood motionless, fist clutched tight, deep in thought. He was rolling over in his mind what the inept Tyrell had just said with his dying breath, something about a surviving Jedi.

He turned to the communications officer again, "I want that helmet recording showing the fugitives the moment it arrives." He turned and exited the room, heading deeper into the heart of the station, toward his private chambers as currents of anger radiated away from him, rippling through the force.

In this remote, inner area of the battle station most of the corridors were empty. His footsteps echoed as he walked, and the dark Jedi beneath the black mask thought back over the years to the first time he had ever used the force to choke someone, accidentally killing his beloved Padme for siding against him with Obi Wan.

He remembered how it felt to be the new apprentice to his Sith Master. He had been dubbed _Darth Vader_, and was to become the proud Lord of his new Empire. The dark side coursed through him so freely then, so savagely uncontrolled.

In his rage, he had destroyed the one he loved. He had given himself over to the teachings of Darth Sidious in the hopes of keeping her alive, to alter the shadowy future he had foreseen in a premonition of her death. Somewhere along the way in his ever-increasing lust for power, he destroyed all for which he had fought and suffered.

He entered a security code and the blast doors to his chambers slid open. As he stepped inside, they quickly snapped shut, locking behind him. It was a dark, cold place, as cold as the dark knight's heart. Situated on the far side of the room sat his pressurized meditation chamber. The top half of the octagonal sphere was raised, the external steps lowered for his entry. He silently ascended them and settled into the cushioned seat in the center. He sat silent for a moment, replaying events from long ago in his mind.

He remembered standing face to face with General Grievous, unknowingly staring into his own dark future, living as half man and half machine. He remembered an exhilarating and draining lightsaber confrontation with his former master and friend, Obi Wan. He remembered attempting to gain a better position from which to end his master's life, and the instant the searing energy blade lopped off both his legs and his last remaining human arm, dropping him into the scorched obsidian and ash on the banks of the Mustafar lava flow.

He had reached out with every ounce of hate, still trying to fight, as he slid backwards further and further with each attempt to crawl away from the searing heat of the lava flow, still fighting to face his master. He remembered the intense pain as his clothing and hair had burned from his body, severely charring and blistering his skin and disfiguring his face and what remained of his body.

He touched a small switch in the armrest beside him and the top half of the black sphere lowered, sealing him inside. The hissing of the pressurized airflow ceased, and a mechanical armature lowered from above him, clasping around the polished, black dome of his helmet. It tripped a magnetic release mechanism inside the helmet, and raised back out of the way, taking the dome with it. Vader then manually released a lock on either side of his head.

There was a hiss of escaping air as he rocked the facemask forward, separating it at the jawline, pivoting forward on pins near the twin silver tusks at the corners of the "mouth". Once clear of his head, he lifted the mask off of the pins and set it aside on the ledge that ran around the inside of the chamber.

He remembered very little of his flight back to Coruscant in the medical pod.

He tried very hard to forget the work the med 'droids had done to him, the pain had been excruciating.

Then they sealed him inside this helmet, and much of the laborious effort to breathe fell away.

He was raised to face his new master, only to learn that in his rage, he had killed his beloved Padme. He closed his eyes in that agonizing moment, fighting back the pain of his loss. It was then that Sidious had told him that not only was the bio-regenerating suit and breath mask keeping his body protected, but his twisted manipulation of the dark side of the Force on his apprentice's behalf was also keeping him alive. Without that, the suit would fail him and he would die.

So long as Sidious was able to convince Vader that this lie was true, he never had to fear that one day his power might be in jeopardy; that he might be murdered in his sleep by his apprentice, the way he had murdered his own master so many years before. With the secret that Sidious kept, the tragedy surrounding the _death_ of Anakin Skywalker and the birth of Darth Vader was complete and fierce. The very motivation behind Anakin's fall to the dark side, was dead and gone, and once again he was a slave, at the mercy of his dark master. His pain had come full circle.

He drew in a deep breath, eyes closed as he thought more about what had transpired on Tatooine.

Tatooine.

He wondered why the late Bail Organa's daughter had bothered to go there with the Death Star plans. It held no military significance that he knew of. It had once been his home, but that was long ago, before his mother's death.

He opened his eyes slightly, staring off into nothingness as images and emotions from the past surfaced.

He remembered his mother's funeral, but could only picture himself there as he now was, disfigured and trapped behind his mask.

He glanced over to a clear container filled with the Tatooine sand he had scraped from atop her grave so long ago. He missed her.

Tarkin's effective demonstration had most certainly sent shock waves through the galactic community, as worlds from the Core to the edges of populated space were surely learning of the obliteration of Alderaan.

His scarred brow furrowed as he rolled over the events of the past few days. The convoy carrying the Death Star plans had been attacked and the plans stolen by Bria Tharen and other members of the Red Hand. They had been eliminated on Toprawa, but not before they had transmitted the plans to Senator Organa and destroyed the master data card.

Leia Organa had been cool enough under fire to send the plans off with a 'droid. The jettisoned mech had made it to the surface of Tatooine and managed several days later, with the help of someone or something, to smuggle them off-world, but who? Why? And where would they head now? The Dark Lord searched the Force for answers.

A light flashed on the console panel before him. He pressed and held the comm button, "Lord Vader, the helmet recording has been received and has been forwarded to your chambers, sir." He lifted his finger from the button and turned to a small screen. He opened the awaiting file and began watching the images. He saw routine traffic stops and the inspections of several 'droids. Then, the trooper recording the images wandered away from the roadblock down a shady hallway. The hall led to stairs that took the trooper to a lower level of the busy marketplace as he watched the images of places familiar, Vader could now smell with his memory that which his destroyed nostrils could not, the hot sands and dry winds of his youth.

Then he leaned forward, inspecting the images closer. The trooper had just caught sight of an old man, a boy and two 'droids. The old man's face was nearly covered by a deep hood, on his flowing cloak. A cloak that was all too familiar. The figure raised his hand and the recorded image rolled wildly as the trooper was thrown backward to the ground. The trooper raised his blaster as a sweeping blue flash cut across the screen top to bottom and then side to side, as the old man killed him . . . with a lightsaber.

As the helmet rolled over in the sand, the camera captured a few seconds of the old man and the boy. The man looked around as he and the others hurried away. As they did, Vader caught sight of something hanging from the boy's belt . . . another lightsaber.

_The_ lightsaber his former master had stripped from him so long ago, lifted from the scorched banks of the molten Mustafar lava flow. The last lightsaber he himself had built as a Jedi Padawaan.

The anger and hate was swelling in him now. Obi Wan Kenobi was alive, and he had a new apprentice!

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 - Departure**

Falker paced back and forth across the floor of the open bay pit looking up at the melted metal pipes hanging from the smoking, sooty wall as he _finally_ received the name of the departing ship from the port authority. The top rim of docking bay 94 had been blackened and burned by the main engines of the departing _**Millenium Falcon**_. He confirmed with the crews of the Star Destroyers _**Conquest**___and _**Tyrant**_ that the ship in question had run from them and escaped into hyperspace before they could acquire a good fix on the target.

0600 and Rogue carried the lifeless body of Taka out of docking bay 94, leaving the corpses of Tyrell and his troops lying in the sand. They knew there would be an inspection team here soon, but Taka deserved a better fate than to be picked apart in the official investigation process. Ddraig found a cargo repulsor sled in the upper hallway and met them at the top of the stairs. The bloodied, broken body of their comrade was gently lowered to its surface. Everyone stood silent for a moment, staring down at what could easily have been any one of them. Without a word, the sled was slowly and reverently moved down the hallway, past a silent Garindan, toward bay 98.

Any thoughts Rogue and 0600 may have had about Taka buying his way out of prosecution alongside them for the Belliran V Massacre were now gone. In the darkness of our shuttle flight from Kessel, he had said he thought they were dead in the med lab when he was released. Even if he _had_ bargained his way out, he had now sacrificed his life for Rogue, repaying any debt he may have had, real or imagined. Felth walked behind a bit, and seemed to be somewhat preoccupied.

4120 fell back beside him, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just going over what just happened, you know, making sure I did what I should have."

4120 reassured him, "I'm sure we all did the best we could, given the circumstances. I'm sorry about your friends."

Felth was going over the firefight in his head, "Oh, they weren't really my friends. I had just transferred in, and I didn't know anyone yet except Tyrell, and I couldn't stand him." He was glad that no one in the group had seen him shoot his own squad leader in the back during the last exchange with the Corellian. It had been a gut-wrenching decision, made in a millisecond, and one that had absolutely surprised him, but he now felt that the Rebellion was doing the right thing.

In his heart he felt the Empire was wrong, oppressing worlds across the entire expanse of the galaxy. He had worked so hard to locate the missing data and prove himself, and now, he knew he was trapped in that role of dedicated Stormtrooper. He knew the Empire would find him if he deserted and jumped sides. He knew he could now be of much more value to the rebellion by remaining within the Empire, and funneling information to their cause.

This newly assembled unit seemed to be a smart group though. He would need to be vigilant at all times until he was allowed, by the inspection team, to be reassigned.

The interior lights of the sealed meditation chamber were dimmed to near absolute darkness. Its occupant in a deep meditation. The obscure layers of consciousness slipped elusively by as the human brain, of what had once been Anakin Skywalker, fed on the energy attracted by the Midichlorians coursing through what was left of his bloodstream. He felt the warm pulse of his human heart in his upper arms and the trunk of his body. His heavy cybernetic limbs, however, still felt foreign and cold.

At first they had been ungainly and awkward, forcing him to re-learn standing and walking all over again. During those hazy, dark days following his defeat at the hands of his Jedi master, he had worked endless, grueling hours in his private chambers; practicing with one, and building to several seeker remotes and assassin droids to master his new limbs.

His ravaged body and blistered, deformed skin ached and burned beneath his suit and helmet, but not nearly as hot as the hatred that burned in his heart for his former master. He repeated painful motions over and over again, learning the new subtleties of moving through fight stances on his cybernetic legs, and regaining the dexterity and masterful control of his dominant lightsaber hand. He allowed himself to feed off the intense pain, focusing it, channeling it, bringing the Force around him to a constant, controlled boil.

Cloudy thoughts now mingled with the energies of the dark side as Vader lost himself in its inky, warm liquidity seeking answers to questions that had plagued him since discovering Obi-wan still among the living. He allowed himself to slowly drift closer to the light side Force energies than he had since yielding to the Sith teachings of Palpatine, so long ago. He needed to sense others from his lost order in his quest for his former master. Suffering cries of the Jedi he had helped decimate echoed in his ears. He heard the urgent, pleading warning from Qui-gon calling out to him, **"Anakin, NOOO!" **

In spite of all that could have distracted him he remained focused, searching for answers, awaiting clues to be revealed to him. He was open to any sense or feeling of a reason why Obi-wan might possibly have been on Tatooine with a new apprentice. Obi-wan hated Tatooine, and would not have been there willingly.

He remembered the stories he had been told about the damaged, leaking hyperdrive engine forcing that fateful emergency landing, forever entwining his destiny with that of Qui-gon, Obi-Wan and the Queen, his fragile beauty, Padme. He had been concerned that they might have been stuck on the desert planet for a very long time. It made no sense that he would have willingly returned.

Perhaps that was exactly why he did so.

As his meditative trance became more focused, images began appearing in the mind's eye of the dark Lord. He saw an emerging asteroid field; planetoids tumbling silently. One of them shifted and became master Yoda, tumbling off into a gathering fog.

He calmed himself and became even more centered in the Force. In his vision, there were clouds, rain and mud with the cries of unseen animals hiding in the shadows of colossal trees draped with vines. Then, as the cloudy haze parted slightly, he saw Obi-wan holding an infant in his arms and heard a voice call out, **"**_**Luke**_**".** It was the shallow, but unmistakable, sweet sound of his wife's voice.

His heart beat increasingly faster, pounding in his ears now as the images became disjointed, fast-morphing flashes in his mind as he abruptly ascended from his unconscious state too rapidly. He saw Padme lying on a table, speaking to Obi-wan, then falling silent as the life drained from her face. Her still body transformed into a mound of sand, blowing off the table in a wind across an emerging Tatooine skyline at sunset. A hooded Obi-wan now stood amidst the blowing sand with the child, walking into the sunset.

Then, the blowing sands consumed him and gave way to careening, colliding asteroids which became two combatants engaged in a furious lightsaber battle. He was fighting someone dressed in black whose movements were aggressive, attacking and Sith-like. He continued to ascend as intermittent, hazy images surfaced of himself throwing a dark-robed figure over a balcony amidst tangled streams of Force-lightning raining down on him, killing him.

Suddenly, he emerged from the trance. His eyes fluttered open wildly in the darkness of the dim meditation chamber, lacking the ability to form tears, but filled with the pain and grief of his loss all over again. His chest heaved and he gasped as his mechanical lungs quickly adjusted, cycling air in and out at twice their normal pace.

4120 piloted Tyrell's shuttle out across the sand waves heading toward the heart of the Dune Sea. Captain Tyrell and his men were dead, they wouldn't be needing it anytime soon. The members of the 104th MFP were seated silently in the jumpseats along both side walls.

Taka was the first to fall in the line of duty in this new post, and Rogue now prepared him for his final resting place. We all watched as he drained the energy clip, snapped it in the magazine well, and placed Taka's E-11 in his hands, carefully positioning one hand on the grip, the other under the barrel, laying it across his chest as if he were standing at the ready.

Etz nodded knowingly, "You can have my blaster when you pry it from my cold, dead hands."

Rogue turned to him, nodding, "Exactly."

It was a cocky phrase that had been uttered by virtually every trooper, in every session on Carida when sidearms were issued to a new class.

The main engines were cut as braking thrusters fired and the ship began slowing, finally coming to a hover over the ridgeline of a large dune. 4120's hands moved over the controls as he lowered us carefully to the ground. Topolev and Blade opened the rear hatch and extended the boarding ramp as the rest of us unclipped. A warm wind whipped past us as we pushed the sled down to the blowing sand.

The afternoon light was fading fast, bathing us in a dark orange glow as the twin suns sat just above the horizon. 0600 walked away from us in silhouette, facing the two giant fireballs, then stopped and looked down at his feet, kicking at the sand a bit, "This is a good spot."

We moved the sled over to him and lifted our dead from it, placing him gently in the sand on his back, blaster held up to his chest, staring up into the stars. We all stepped back a pace and respectfully removed our helmets. Only the sound of the wind blowing past us was heard.

Blowing sand began to collect around Taka's body, mounding up against it as we watched silently. Rogue spoke, "He gave his life to save mine, this new Sandtrooper. And as a Sandtrooper, we offer up his body to be returned to the sand . . . to become one with it." He knelt down and grabbed up a handful of sand, and tossed it across Taka's chest, "Pleasant journeys, my friend; pleasant journeys" then turned and walked away silently with his helmet in hand as the wind continued to whip around us.

We all observed a moment of silence, then one by one dropped a handful of sand on Taka's body. The evening winds were picking up now, drifting even more sand around the one we were leaving behind as we all silently returned to the shuttle. Topolev and I were the last to board, taking a final look back at Taka as we ascended the sloped ramp. We had all seen troopers fall in battle, many of them friends. I just didn't think it would be happening this soon after arriving here.

The white of his Impervium had almost been swallowed entirely by the time we lifted off.

* * *

The bluish-white haze of the afternoon sky had given way to the amber and bronze tones of the early evening which had now yielded to the suffocating blackness of a moonless Tatooine night. 4120 had bypassed the spaceport protocols and set our shuttle down in the open courtyard behind our new barracks. We all moved quietly out of our seats and headed for the fresh air outside. I stepped off the bottom of the ramp into the now-cool sand and ran through the events of this very long day as we all walked toward the back of our building.

Rogue opened the rear armored door of the barracks and we entered through the storage area, stepping around our supplies, still piled high on the repulsor sled. I secured the door after Topolev and Etz came through, and was about to make my way through to the bunkroom out front when I noticed something behind a storage crate. It was a lever on the plates of the armored wall. There were no labels as to its function.

I looked around. No one was hanging back, so I reached over and pulled on the lever. It resisted a bit, but then rocked to one side. As it did, I felt a slight rumbling under my feet and the supply sled began to lower into the floor. The entire recessed center of the room was a lift system that was now lowering to a sub-level. I watched as it slipped out of sight below the floor and came to stop several meters below.

I leaned over the edge to look down as lights flickered through a doorway leading away from the platform below. The others were now standing in the doorway behind me. I looked back over my shoulder. "Check this out".

With buckets off, 4120 and Rogue were first through the door to inspect my discovery, closely followed by the others. Topolev whistled as 0600 and Ddraig walked to the edge.

Falker spoke up, "It looks like a supply cache. We used something similar on Talasea while I was there training on their orbital platform."

Rogue turned to me, "I see another control lever down there. Call it back up. Let's see what's down there."

I nodded. "Sure" and stepped over to the lever, giving it a pull in the opposite direction. The floor shook again as the lift rose until it docked once again with our level. Everyone stepped on, crowding around the supply sled. I threw the lever and stepped on as once again it descended.

We came to a stop on the lower level, and the open doorway ahead revealed a dark room with a flickering, malfunctioning luminary. We all stepped through the door into the relative darkness of the next room. The air here was stale and the only working luminary hung from a wiring harness, flickering and swinging as we moved past it, sending sporadic, rocking shadows across the room and up the walls.

It was very hard to make out what was here with the light strobing as it was. There were more supply crates, several items draped in large canvas tarps and large bay doors on the opposing wall.

Etz was looking under the edge of one of the tarps when Blade stepped up from the other side and pulled it off. Dust flew off, swirling up in a cloud and hanging in the still air.

In the dim light we could see several tripod-mounted cannons. Etz grabbed the next tarp and pulled it off as Danz and Topolev pulled off the remaining two.

By now we were all coughing as the air was thick with very fine dust particles. I noticed the outline of a deactivated astromech droid squeezed between the cannons, and moved in for a closer look. Topolev ran his gloved hand over a full rack of what appeared to be hundreds of transparent holo-cards.

He pulled one out and leaned toward the swinging light, gently wiping the years of dust away. "Jabba's Court – 22413". He reached over and pulled out several more. The labeling was the same, but with ascending numbers. "I'm not sure, but I think these may be surveillance recordings of The Hutt's Palace." He handed the cards to Rogue as the others moved further into the darkness checking out what else had been waiting silently in the shadows.

Rogue held them up and looked over to the full rack of similar cards, "These may prove very helpful. What else is back there?"

Danz and Etz walked between racks of weapons. Each of them lifted out a rifle, turning them over, examining them as 4120 and Falker broke the seal and lifted the lid on a container resting against the stone wall.

As Rogue continued looking over the card with 0600, I pulled the astromech from its tight squeeze between the cannons and knelt down to look it over. It was a little the worse for the wear. Several panels were missing and a blackened wiring harness protruded from one of its side panels, but it didn't appear to be anything some repair work couldn't take care of. A few parts and a refreshing of its internal power cells, and we might have ourselves a working maintenance droid.

As he inspected the rack of cards closer, the comm unit on Rogue's belt chirped an alert. He pulled it off and stepped back through the door to the lift to answer, and the rest of us began to talk amongst ourselves.

Falker reached down into the deep container in the back of the room.

"Check these out." It was dark where they were, in the back of the room. He handed the item to 4120, who walked out between the crates and held it up to the light.

It was a twenty-plus year old, dust-covered helmet. Its blue markings were chipped and stained from duty in the harsh Tatooine sand. "I remember seeing these as a kid", said 4120. It was a battle-worn Republic Commando helmet from the Clone Wars era. Ddraig and Felth were checking out the cannons.

The latter looked over at the helmet and spoke up as he returned to his examination of the large guns "Everyone our age remembers those guys. They stormed the Temple and caught those Jedi traitors off guard. They were the foundations of the Empire we know today, those first troopers of the 501st." Falker stiffened a bit, reminded again of his own intimate family connection to the Jedi purge.

I reached up to 4120, "Let me see it?"

He handed the helmet over to me as I stood up. I rolled it over, examining the interior, the visor rocked back on top. Not a great deal had changed since then. Some things were smaller now and incorporated into the interior lenses. There was no longer a need for an external visor, although incorporating the zoom features of our macros that way would be nice; one less thing on our belts.

Etz was standing beside the bay doors thumbing through another rack of holo cards. _Chalmun's Cantina, Vriichi Brothers, Tusken Disturbance P-3871,_ "Arrest records."

He looked up from the cards and reached for the lever on the wall above the rack and was about to swing it down, opening the bay doors for a look at what lay behind when Rogue stepped back into the room, clicking off his commlink. "Inspection team's here. Let's go. We can look more in here later."

Etz took his hand off the lever, started away, then glanced back at the doors wondering what lay just on the other side. Slowly he walked away, back through the dim room as I set the Commando helmet down on top of the astromech. We all headed back toward the lift. 0600 threw the lever handle down and the lift rose back up to the surface, sealing the lower room once again.

Rogue spoke as we walked through the bunkroom and headed for the front port, "Leave your packs; just buckets and blasters tonight boys. Hopefully this won't take too long, I'm ready for a little shuteye" and he walked out the front door onto the darkened streets of Mos Eisley.

"I'll take a little of that myself" I said, pulling on my helmet and switching on my holstered blaster.

"Buckets and blasters" said Topolev.

"Buckets and blasters" repeated Ddraig as he grabbed his E-11 and holstered it.

Blade was the last one out the door into the cool night air. "Buckets and blasters" he echoed as he pulled on his helmet and locked the door as our new unit headed off for docking bay 94.

The local port authority guard stood at attention, staring off into nothingness as he secured the stairs leading down into docking bay 94.

Down in the bay, we were going over the chain of events surrounding the _**Millennium Falcon**_'s hasty departure with the inspection team from the _**Tyrant**_ for the _6th_ time.

The lead Incident Inspector cursed as he handed Rogue's helmet back to him, "This is no good to me! The helmet recorders were wiped clean by the massive energy wave that washed over you from the modified repulsors on the _**Millenium Falcon**_."

Felth, who had been hanging back and sweating like it was midday, breathed a small sigh of relief. He would not be discovered. Not yet. Tyrell's murder would be deemed as a casualty of battle.

Rogue took his helmet back, looking inside, "Do we need to replace the datacards or will they simply restart on a blank slate?"

The Inspector spoke as he turned away, distracted; watching the others from the _**Tyrant**_ tossing the bodies of Tyrell and his troops onto a repulsor sled, "Switch them off and when activated again they'll start fresh. TD-1009, we've been over this a number of times with you and your men, and the story seems to be consistent from everyone involved. It appears that you and your men did everything you could to prevent the _**Millenium Falcon**_ from escaping. Captain Tyrell there seems to have done nothing but hamper your efforts" he said gesturing to the body on the top of the stack.

"The Port Authority for this pathetic place has little or no records other than the ships' name. No destination, no manifest, no anything. Let's wrap this up. We have all the physical evidence we can gather here. We'll be in touch with the command crew of the _**Conquest**_ as well as the _**Tyrant**_. Hopefully we can try to project a possible hyperspace flight plan based on their last known trajectory. Lord Vader won't leave this alone for long. Of that I can assure you. The data is too sensitive."

"Does that mean we can go?" asked Ddraig.

The inspector flashed a look his way, then turned and nodded to Rogue and headed over to load the sled onto the lift.

Rogue turned to Ddraig and the rest of us, "OK guys, let's go get some rest. It's been a long day."

Buckets in hand, we all ascended the sandy stairs out of the bay pit, all eyes silently noticing the bloodstains on the lower steps to which Taka had been dragged.

As we made our way down the cool, dark streets toward headquarters, I rocked my head back, staring up into the blackness of the Tatooine night and the huge expanse of the galaxy above us. It had been almost seven standard hours since the _**Millenium Falcon**_ ripped out of here. Traveling through hyperspace, they could be almost anywhere out there by now.

"Does that mean we can go?" mocked Falker, elbowing Ddraig, who grinned and laughed back at him, amusing us all as we walked along.

I drew in a deep, even breath as 4120, walking just ahead of me, leaned over to Rogue. "In the morning we need to go back out to Anchorhead and question those kids again."

Rogue nodded, staring ahead, "Agreed." Then he turned to 4120 "I smell another long day coming on."

4120 smiled slightly "Another glorious day in service to the Empire!"

The last of the TIE fighter patrols continued its sweep along the fringes of the newly created Alderaan asteroid field, taking radiation readings for submission to Grand Moff Tarkin and watching for any evidence of ships that might have been on approach when the planet was destroyed. So far, radiation detected was minimal and several vessels, that had not been damaged or destroyed, had been spotted and drawn into the Death Star.

This last pilot was on his way out of the field returning to his hangar bay when another ship slipped out of hyperspace and appeared on his scope, amidst the tumbling rocks. He watched and thought to himself as the other ship fought to avoid the uncharted obstacles. _They must have been en route when the destruction occurred._

The whine of the twin ion engines increased as he increased his speed, changed his course heading and came around fast, approaching the ship from behind and firing several warning shots. His ship's proximity to the freighter decreased dramatically as the TIE screamed by, nearly scraping the upper skin of the ship beneath him. He passed directly over the cockpit window, hoping to persuade the pilot to follow him.

The hand guiding the worn, Corellian freighter did just that, locking on and giving chase, all the while being led squarely into the path of the invisible, gripping tractor beam reaching out powerfully from the station ahead that shone brightly . . . like a small moon.

Thin, cold fingers on the bony hand protruding from the sleeve of the tailored officer's uniform depressed a small comm button set into the deeply polished black surface of the long table, "Yes?"

Wilhuff Tarkin was not a patient man today by any stretch of the imagination. Detailed schematic plans for the Death Star station, his project for more than 20 years now, had fallen victim to infiltration by a band of rebels and was now missing. Somehow, somewhere along the line, someone relaxed just enough to allow this breech of security.

A tinny, electronically-enhanced voice came back from the speaker in the table-mounted comm unit. "We've captured a freighter entering the remains of the Alderaan system. Its markings match those of a ship that blasted its way out of Mos Eisley."

Tarkin stared at the comm button under his fingertip as Vader moved closer, the dark Lord's mind churned to fit this new wrinkle into the equation, "They must be trying to return the stolen plans to the Princess. She may yet be of some use to us."

The aging Technical Specialist who had risen through the ranks to become a Grand Moff, overseeing all of the Regional Governors, turned his head ever so slightly toward Vader, staring off into nothing for several moments. "Keep her on the execution list . . . but delay it long enough for another round or two with the mind probe." A slight smile crept onto his face. "That should provide sufficient time for the ship to be thoroughly searched. Providing she survives two more rounds, she may prove useful if something is uncovered."

Vader bowed his head once, "As you wish" and walked out the door. The ship that had eluded Tyrell was now sitting in docking bay 2037, many levels below. The Dark Lord's pace was a bit faster than usual and as he headed for the turbolift tubes, a mouse droid happened to wander into his path. He gestured slightly and the squeaking little 'droid was scooted to the side of the hall, out of his way.

As the doors to the lift opened and he entered, there was an almost imperceptible rippling in the Force . . . a tingling deep in his brain that trickled down his neck, over his shoulders and made him shudder slightly. In that tingling, there was an instant moment of recognition. It was the implication of that recognition that enraged him. The doors closed and the lift whisked away, rapidly shuttling him toward his chosen level. The sensation grew stronger, as if the Midichlorians in his blood had suddenly become electrically charged. It was the presence of his old master.

The doors to the lift opened and he exited out into the stream of personnel walking through the corridor. A small group of TIE Pilots was just ahead of him heading toward a hangar, arguing about a known issue with the design of the Ion engines on their fighters. Several officers walked behind, and had fallen silent as his looming presence had entered the walkway.

He pushed the sensation back, focusing on the ship he now saw in the docking bay before him. A voice blared over the hangar loudspeaker as he walked out into the large bay, "Unlock one-five-seven and nine. Release charges." He heard the sound of pressure venting from something inside the hangar as he made his way to the detachment standing at attention, and the officer awaiting his arrival.

The young officer stepped forward as he came to a stop, "There's no one on board, sir. According to the log, the crew abandoned ship right after takeoff. It must be a decoy, sir. Several of the escape pods have been jettisoned."

Vader turned his head away, looking the ship over, "Did you find any droids?"

The officer immediately replied, "No, sir. If there were any on board, they must also have jettisoned."

Had this been just a decoy? Had Obi-Wan, his apprentice and the 'droids jumped to hyperspace momentarily and then perhaps changed ships, sending this one along to buy themselves some time? The sensation pounding in his veins told him otherwise, "Send a scanning crew on board. I want every part of this ship checked."

"Yes, sir" replied the officer, as Vader looked back toward the ship once again.

"I sense something. A presence I've not felt since . . ." He allowed his words to trail off as he turned and walked away.

_A presence I've not felt since Obi-Wan left me for dead, lying in the black volcanic sand and ash_, he thought to himself as he walked.

First he accidentally discovers that his former master is alive after years of believing him dead, and now Obi-Wan simply delivers himself?

Why? And why now, after such a long, long time?

He barely heard the officer behind him "Get me a scanning crew in here on the double. I want every part of this ship checked!"

As all the members of the MFP slept; while winds blew outside, drifting the sand this way and that in the dark of the Tatooine night, the holonet indicator beacon on the command center console blinked on and flashed silently, waiting for a message to be checked.

I had awakened early, before the dual sunrises for some reason. I had taken the time to quietly clean up and was slipping on my armor plates. We all could have used a bit more sleep, but the late meeting with the inspection crew had robbed us of that. The streets were now filling with people and the activity of a new day awaited us.

Danz, Rogue and 4120 were busy out front in the command center and Topolev was taking his turn in the 'fresher, under the sonic shower. Here on Tatooine, water was far too precious a commodity to be used for something as lavish as a shower, so sonic cleansing was the local practice. The sonic showers actually worked fairly well and cleaned you more thoroughly than water, once you got the hang of using them properly.

Personally, I still preferred standing under hot streams of water for cleaning and relaxing after a long day, but it is not to be. Not here, not now.

My black-rimmed ID tags hung around my neck as I slipped my chest armor over my head. I tucked them inside the front plate and strapped it down snugly. Danz was in the front command center and passed by the open door as he yelled out, "Ddraig! Wake up. You've got a holo message."

Ddraig's eyes opened slightly as he sat up and swung his legs out over the edge of his upper bunk. He yawned and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened. A small groan escaped his lips as he jumped down to the floor. Stretching a bit, he walked out front, sat down at the holonet console, and keyed his personal account entry code. The screen went blank for a moment. He wiped his eyes and yawned again, then the screen flickered as a text display opened. It was from his friend, TK-1999, in Internal Security, back on Coruscant.

"_**Ddraig, I can't stay on this channel long, but I wanted to let you and your men know that the ship that escaped Tatooine yesterday, the Millenium Falcon, was just recovered when she re-entered normal space in the Alderaan asteroid field. Sorry,I forgot, you might not have heard. Tarkin and Vader used the Death Star superlaser on Alderaan. It's all over the holonet news. The entire planet is gone, there's nothing left but an asteroid field of planetary fragments." **_

Ddraig's eyes darted a bit faster over the text, _**"One of our TIE pilots coaxed the ship to give chase, although initial reports now show no passengers. It was thought the controls may have been slave-rigged to respond to other traffic. Once it was brought aboard, at Lord Vader's request, a scanning crew was brought in to search the ship top to bottom. The initial walk-through turned up nothing. The passengers seemed to have ejected with their cargo. But, just a few moments ago, TK-0421 and another trooper were found stunned, lying naked in the engine compartment of the captured ship. A search has been mounted as it is possible the fugitives may still be onboard the Death Star. Thanks for the efforts you and your unit made to stop these rebels. I just wanted to update you. I'll fill you in more as information trickles through from the station. I handle all the official communiqués to Imperial Center and the Palace. I'll know about it before the Emperor does. Enjoy the sand, buddy. TK-1999 out."**_

The screen faded back to darkness, and Ddraig sat motionless for a moment. Then he stood up, "Tarkin and Lord Vader tested the Death Star on Alderaan . . . the planet's completely blown away . . . there's only an asteroid field there now."

"What!" said Rogue. 4120 looked around, stunned, as did Danz. Ddraig continued, "He also said the Millenium Falcon was captured by the Station. It must have been heading to Alderaan when it was captured. None of the passengers have been recovered yet, just the ship . . . the message was from my friend back on Coruscant. He works in Internal Security, and receives all inbound communications to the Emperor. We probably got this before his Excellency."

Rogue nodded, "Thanks for letting us know . . . well, we won't need to head back to Anchorhead now" he noted, glancing over to 4120, "The Inspection Team will be filing their report with Lord Vader soon. They have all the information detailing our search and the Anchorhead interrogation, as well as the bits of information we discovered about the missing nephew farmhand, Luke, and the old man accompanying him. If they can tie that to something aboard the ship, maybe they'll have a chance of finding them . . . it doesn't sound too promising though. If everyone jettisoned in the onboard lifepods early in the flight, they could be anywhere. It's beyond us now. What a pity about Alderaan, they had such beautiful works of art there."

Ddraig nodded slowly, then slipped back into the bunkroom to tell the rest of us as 4120 spoke up, "I can't believe Alderaan is gone!" Rogue nodded, "We need to place a notice for the Moisture Farmers . . . organize a meeting so everyone knows we're here . . . start a dialogue with them to hear some of their concerns. That's why we're here." 4120 nodded, "Yeah, I'll get right on it. You know . . . Lord Vader is going to have nothing but more questions about the origins of the flight and the outcast Jedi once the inspection crew files their report. We should pay a personal visit to the port authority to see if we've gotten everything they know."

After a brief, morning meal of field rations, Falker, Ddraig, Felth and 0600 headed out to the port authority office to see if more information could be obtained about the Millenium Falcon and her crew. Rogue, Blade, 4120 and Danz were out on the streets putting up public notices about the meeting with the moisture farmers and Topolev, Etz and I had gone back down into the storage cache in the rear room to finish going through the inventory.

Etz stood on a repulsor sled, as he worked on the luminaries in the ceiling. He finished his wiring and closed the overhead panel, then lowered the sled to within a foot of the ground. "That astromech doesn't look that bad . . . you think you can fix it Deckard?" He activated the wall-mounted switch, and the overhead lighting flickered on, brightly lighting up the room. "Much better", said Topolev, as he finished opening a few more crates in the back of the room. I thoughtfully looked the little 'droid over as I strained to scoot the heavy mech out to the lift, "I think so . . . but I'm definitely going to need a few parts". I positioned the burned out 'droid in the center of the lift, next to a crate of blasters, "We can check out some of the local shops when we're done here. They should have what I'll need . . . this little guy's been around a while . . . and outdated parts seem to be a specialty around here."

Topolev laughed as he kept working. Etz put down his tools and walked over to the bay door he had been ready to open the night before. He stood there, looking at it for a moment, then reached up and slid the lever to one side. The lights he had just repaired overhead flickered slightly and there was a deep rumbling in the floor as the large bay doors began to slide open. Topolev stepped out from where he was, and I walked over to Etz, standing next to the shelf of arrest records as the doors parted.

"There has to be more!" demanded Falker, slamming his fist down on the desk of the Harbor Master. "This Port Authority office is a joke" said Ddraig, disgusted. 0600 moved closer to the desk as Falker walked away to keep from strangling the bloated, reptilian officer seated behind it. Felth watched the door as 0600 pulled off his bucket and leaned in close to the officer, "Show me the flight records for the past 72 standard hours . . . or you won't live long enough to receive another payment from Jabba the Hutt to keep those records secure", and he flipped on the power cell on his holstered E-11.

Beads of sweat formed on the officer's brow, as 0600 held his locked stare. The sweat beads began trickling down the scaly face of the officer as the high-pitched whine of the power cell cycled up to full. 0600, still locked in his stare, thumbed loose the holster snap, freeing the blaster. "You win! I'll get you the records", said the officer, "but Jabba won't be very happy with you". 0600 leaned even closer, "Do I look like I care what Jabba thinks of me?" The officer shook his head quickly. "Get them now" said 0600. The officer stood, moving to the back room, under the watchful eye, and trained blaster muzzle of Falker. 0600 had lost his brother to one of Jabba's henchmen years ago, and now Taka was dead. The Hutt was hiding information he needed to find a rebel killer . . . perhaps it was time for the crime lord to be disposed of.

Felth shifted a bit in the back of the room, taking everything in as the Harbor Master returned with several data cards. "You'll find the records you're looking for on these. The crew of the YT-1300 Corellian ship, the _**Millenium Falcon**_ is Han Solo, and his first mate, Chewbacca, the Wookiee . . . they're regulars here. They come and go for long stretches, but eventually they always end up back here. You might also want to track down Dash Rendar. He's Captain of the _**Outrider**_, a Corellian YT-2400 and a friend of Solo's . . . and he was in town until yesterday. He raised ship a few hours before the 'Falcon. They both have worked for Jabba over the years. That's all I know, I swear. The rest of the details are on the cards".

0600 took the cards and walked out, followed by the others. The Harbor Master closed his eyes in relief, breathing a bit easier now that they were gone. Then he turned to his holonet port and opened a direct line to Jabba's court.

Blade posted a notice on the wall of the marketplace as Rogue worked the other side of the courtyard. Even this early in the morning, the marketplace was filled with farmers and merchants, peddling their wares, services and crops, and with others buying or just trying to get under the draped overhead canopies and out of the direct rays of the suns. Danz and Blade spoke with several of the farmers who were voicing their concerns about recent increase in activity from the Sandpeople. "I've had water stolen from six 'vaporators this week alone . . . and they vandalized the repair 'droid that was out there working. They don't much bother the units out in the dunes, but the ones that skirt the Wastes are always being raided." "I heard the Sandpeople raided a farm yesterday, killing the owners!" Danz nodded, "I understand your concerns and frustrations . . . this is exactly what we want to hear from you . . . but at the meeting. We're here to help make sure you can get your crops harvested without interference of any kind."

"About time" said one of the older farmers, as the crowd dispersed and they went back to their work. "The meeting is tomorrow morning here in the market area. We'll all find out more then. Spread the word to the outlying farms", said 4120. Danz shook his head, "Rough crowd". 4120 laughed "Yeah". As the troops regrouped on the far side of the square and headed off to post more notices, a figure watched them go, then flipped open a commlink and began speaking in Huttese.

I could hear sand being crushed and ground down as the large doors slid all the way open . . . and then there was silence . . . absolute still silence. Topolev walked over to us and the three of us stepped through the opening into the cool darkness that lay beyond. Etz reached for a luminary control on the wall, but there was none.

Slowly, our unaided human eyes adjusted to the dim light stolen from the adjacent room behind us. The darkness ahead was basically an empty room, save one large object in the center. As our eyes adjusted further, we were able to make out the rounded, sloping body of what appeared to be a transport-type vehicle. We all stepped closer to the craft. It was a very sleek troop transport.

Although the end we were facing appeared to be the rear thrusters, as we walked around, it became clear that it was actually the front, and the thrusters were for close, tight maneuvering . . . open-air cockpit seating was situated just above them.

As we continued around, we saw that the rear of the transport was low and open, with a wide tailboard for easy deployment and quick, retreating dust-offs. There were benches down both sides of the open-air, rear troop compartment, with hooks on the walls and the deck plates for securing prisoners. An array of armaments were built-in and flush, beneath the skins of the ship to maintain its' unbroken curving surface.

Etz walked around the left side, as Topolev and I walked around the right. Several fueling lines were draped over hooks on the rear wall. I followed the lines of the stony walls up to the ceiling overhead. There was a seam running down the center of the ceiling, appearing to be the dividing line between a set of doors that would open to take the ship out. Topolev and Etz saw what I was looking at, both looking up. Etz reached for another lever on the wall, "This must open the upper doors" as his hand wrapped around the handle.

"WAIT!" yelled Topolev. "Think about where we are right now. Those doors must open up in the courtyard behind the barracks. At least one of the shuttle's landing gear assemblies is probably on top of them . . . if you open that up, the shuttle comes crashing in". Etz removed his hand from the lever. "You're right . . . good call." Topolev exhaled heavily, "That was close." He looked over to the ship "This thing's a prototype, I saw plans similar to this when I was stationed on Kashyyyk, but I never saw one make it to production." I walked a little closer, running my hand over the smooth, curving metal "It's pretty slick whatever it is."

As he walked behind his men up the narrow stairs from the marketplace toward the crowded streets above, Rogue unclipped his commlink and keyed the transmit button, "Garindan, meet us at the building across from the Cantina. I repeat, Meet us at the building across from the Cantina." There were a few moments of white noise static from the tiny speaker and then "Of course". Rogue snapped off the comm and returned it to his belt.

The crowds parted as they spilled out onto the street. No one wanted to make eye contact for fear they might be dragged into something. The elders here remembered living through the Clone Wars and the troops from that time. The armor was a bit different and there were no longer clones underneath, but the mission was the same, loyalty to the success of the Empire and suppression of the people to make it so, forcefully whenever necessary.

The group marched in formation through the blistering sand, thankful for every slight breeze that managed to blow under the armor plates and lower edges of their helmets. The shimmering twin suns were now almost directly overhead, blasting everything that dared venture into the open with punishing heat. A narrow sliver of the largest of Tatooine's three moons was barely visible out over the Dune Sea as it prepared to slip below the horizon, and the sky was clear . . . no clouds, but then there were hardly ever clouds on Tatooine. With only 1% surface water, a total population of around 200,000, and Moisture Farmers constantly coaxing the little water they could from the atmosphere . . . well . . . clouds, in any large abundance, were definitely a rare occurrence.

As the small group drew closer to the Cantina, they could see the darkly-robed figure of Garindan in the distance, working his way through the crowded street, heading their way. Rogue activated his bucket's comm chin switch, "Falker, any luck with the Harbor Master?" A brief moment of silence was broken by Falker's static-laden reply "Yeah. I think we've got some good information to check once we get back to base."

"Great news." said Rogue "We're at base now, we'll see you soon . . . 1009 out". His sign-off was immediately followed by a slight burst of static. He flipped the chin switch from comm mode back to broadcast mode. "Blade, go on ahead inside and get the data card reader ready for us. We'll be inside as soon as the snitch arrives. I want to see what he knows about our mysterious, exiled Jedi". Blade nodded and walked off the main road down the alley to our front portal and entered. Danz leaned a little closer to Rogue and 4120 as he moved his head side to side, watching the passersby on the street "Do you think he knows anything?"

4120 looked to his CO, but Rogue kept a watchful eye on his dark Kubaz spy as he drew closer "If he knew the other troops stationed here, he's been here a long time . . . hopefully he's as connected as he says he is . . . I just hope he isn't working both sides."

The disturbing images of TK-1138's violent death at the hands of the hooded and robed old hermit came to a close, and we saw the final, sideways images of the boy and old man walking past the helmet camera. The display screen on the card reader flashed to static as the recording came to an end. Rogue pulled the helmet data card out of the slot as Garindan settled back in his seat, silent for a moment, in thought. He had seen the old man many times over the years in the cantina, drinking silently at the bar, but never paid him much attention. He was just a quiet loner that lived somewhere out in the rocky hills of the Jundland wastes, who rarely ventured into town. Blade, Danz and 4120 stood around him with Rogue, as I entered the room from the barracks in the back, wiping a power coupling from the damaged 'droid on a dirty rag.

Garindan shifted in his seat and turned his goggled eyes to face Rogue, "I have seen this man before, but know nothing of him", which was of course, only partially the truth. "There are two others that have spent time in Chalmun's Cantina that may know something of him. Over the years I have seen the old man speaking with the pilot BoShek and the Ithorian, Mamow Nadon . . . the Hammerhead. He has spent more time with Nadon, and only recently did I see him speak with BoShek. The hermit goes by the name Ben Kenobi."

As he finished speaking, Falker, Ddraig, Felth and 0600 entered from the street. Falker spoke, "We've got all the flight records for the past 72 hours right here" holding up the data cards " . . . now we just have to go through them to find the information we're looking for. It turns out the Harbor Master is on the Hutt's payroll, and he was hiding flight records, until 0600 . . . explained . . . to him how badly we needed them. I think a visit to Jabba the Hutt is definitely in order after we complete the business at hand . . . just to touch base and let him know we're here."

Rogue turned slightly at the waist, shaking the helmet data card at him, "If the Harbor Master's on the payroll, you can be sure the Hutt was notified about us the moment we first touched down. We'll see him . . . when the time is right." He stepped away, pacing across the room a bit as Etz and Topolev joined us in the command center and I spoke up, "If both of these other contacts were known to frequent Chalmun's, we need a sweep of the bar to locate them. If Bo Shek is a pilot, he could leave at any moment." Falker leaned in a bit toward Garindan, "The Harbor Master mentioned another pilot named Dash Rendar . . . said he was a pilot and friend to Han Solo, the Captain of the _**Millenium Falcon**_. Do you know anything about him?"

"Rendar . . . Rendar and Solo are competitive rivals when it comes to the speed of their starships . . . the _**Outrider**_ and the _**Millenium Falcon**_ . . . but, then again, so is BoShek. As far as I know, Rendar and Solo are friends, but BoShek has been boasting recently that he beat Solo's time on the Kessel Run . . . which he did, but he did it with no cargo loaded onboard his ship, _**Infinity**_. Solo wasn't happy about the grand claims and quickly set BoShek straight as to the rules of the game. They're all free-lance spacers, and have flown for Jabba the Hutt over the years. BoShek has also flown for the B'Omarr Monks on occasion. Rendar has been in town for about a week, but raised ship just before Solo did. I'm not sure where he was headed, but I do know he had a recent meeting with the Hutt."

"The records we just got our hands on should give us more information about that" said 0600, and he grabbed the cards from Falker. He motioned for Garindan to get up, and the Kubaz spy complied. Rogue spoke to us as his friend sat down, "Deckard, take Etz, Topolev, Falker and Ddraig over to the Cantina . . . see if our targets are in there. If not, find out more about where we can find BoShek and Mamow Nadon". 0600 sat down at the reader and inserted the first card to begin poring through the records in search of something that might help. "0600, let 1265 take over that reader and do the searching . . . I want you to come with me, Danz, 4120, Blade and Felth" said Rogue. "We're going to head back to the Lars place to see if there's anything left behind that ties Luke to old Ben Kenobi. If we don't find anything there, we'll head back to Tosche Station in Anchorhead and press Fixer and his friends for more information. Let's move, people, it's already almost midday."

We all moved to the bunkroom to gear up as Garindan moved toward the door . . . Rogue followed, stopping at the doorway. "We need everything we can find on this _**Ben Kenobi**_ and his involvement with Luke, Owen Lars' nephew. Time is of the essence . . . Lord Vader will have questions about them both very soon . . . we need to have answers ready. Keep in touch, and let me know what you uncover." Garindan nodded his large head and beak and disappeared outside, heading toward the main street. Rogue grabbed his pack and pulled it on, closely watching the dark-robed spy disappear into the crowds, "My team, let's go! Everyone in the shuttle out back . . . 4120, you're flying."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 – Sifting for Clues**

A murky fog hung heavy over the still waters below, as the _**Outrider**_ coasted silently along on repulsors, scanning the waters along the edge of the enormous lake on Dathomir. There were pieces of debris half submerged here in the shallows . . . from battles long over. The wreckage of several snubships of various origin could be seen just below the glassy surface, and the still, silent head of an All Terrain Armored Transport broke the surface, thrust upward like a metallic beast struggling for air, forever frozen in time. Rendar had heard of the savage battles here, and from the widespread abundance of twisted remnants, he could tell it was one that raged for some time. As the fog thinned under the heat of the emerging sun, the faint outline of a huge sail barge was visible in the distance.

He maneuvered his ship over to it, silently sliding past, taking note of its excellent condition. Very little, if any, damage was visible from the outside. Either her crew had been killed, or it had been accidentally set adrift during the battle. Regardless of how she came to be here in this ship graveyard, Rendar knew he could sell her easily on the open market. The retractable awnings and masts on the upper decks would have to be stowed in a swept-back position for transporting, he thought as his brain raced with the possibilities. He tried desperately to think of someone that owed him a favor . . . someone with a transport large enough to contain her.

There was a filthy-rich, Hutt crime lord back on Tatooine that would pay generously for such a high-profile display of wealth . . . possibly even generously enough for him to finally purchase a second ship. As he contemplated going onboard to look for salvageable cargo, his scanner began blipping . . . reminding him of the current reason he was here . . . there was a gathering of large lifeforms just ahead on the shore of the lake. The _**Outrider**_ silently pulled away from the barge as Rendar keyed the position into his 'nav computer . . . he would be back. As for this current trip, if all went well with the capture, he would be on his way back to Tatooine soon . . . with his quarry. A high-pitched chorus of cries rose from the shoreline . . . the gathering of beasts had made a kill and was fighting over the steaming carcass. Rendar cinched his chest armor down tightly, checked his holstered blaster, and energized the powerful stun rifle leaning against his instrument panel . . . he had to capture a young one . . . and it had to be alive.

I later came to discover that this inner city portion of Mos Eisley was known as "Pirate City". This area surrounding the spaceport had earned the nickname by playing host to pirates, smugglers, ships and guns for hire and those who sought out their less-than-reputable services. And as relaxed as the patrons of Chalmun's Cantina were, they definitely sat up and took notice a bit when five Sandtroopers entered and spilled down the steps into the noise and smoke of the cool, murky chamber. The pulsing beat of the music slowed a bit, but quickly recovered as Dan and the Nodes kept the music playing . . . watching us slip in amongst the crowd. Ddraig stood by the 'droid detector, covering the front door, I worked my way quickly around to the back of the room to cover the rear exit and Etz stepped up to the bar to ask Wuher about our two marks. Topolev and Falker stepped into the thick of the crowd, watching the faces of those around them as Wuher spoke to Etz. The Hammerhead, Nadon, was easily found, seated in the corner booth, sipping on a drink, and they moved in closer to his table, watching him.

Etz moved away from the bar, and as he made his way past Falker and Topolev . . . he indicated a human in a flight suit seated at a card game near the back of the room. The three of them moved toward me . . . Etz motioned to his eye lenses and then to Nadon for Ddraig to keep an eye on the Ithorian. Falker stepped up to the game table, "BoShek?" The dark-haired human looked up from his cards, the smoke from his cigar drifting about his head. Etz and Topolev flanked Falker as the Rodian and the two other humans at the table laid down their cards, grabbed their credits and left BoShek alone with us. The remaining human exhaled deeply, slowly laid his cards down and grabbed the thick cigar near his lips, pulling it away from his mouth. He spit out a small bit of the leafy cigar, "Look, I've been over this and over this . . . the ship has been re-registered in my name, there's no reason to think . . ." Falker cut him off, "This isn't about your ship. We need answers about someone you know, and we need them now. We can discuss your business here, or you can come with us outside for a little more privacy." The pilot nodded slowly, looking around, "OK, let's step outside then . . . I'll need to work after this is over."

I saw Etz, Falker and Topolev step back as BoShek stood up from the table. He gathered his credits and surrendered his thigh-holstered blaster to Falker as the four walked past me out the front door. I stepped over closer to Ddraig to move on Nadon. Ddraig positioned himself to one side of the booth . . . I stepped up to the other. "Mamow Nadon?" I asked. The tired eyes atop the twin eye stalks blinked twice as he looked up from his drink and fixed his sight on us. "Yes?" came the stereo response from his dual mouths. Ddraig continued "We need information about someone you have known over the years." The aging Ithorian sat upright, speaking slowly with calculated clarity, "Oh? I do hope this person hasn't gone and done something foolish . . . who is it you are inquiring about?" I looked over at Ddraig and then responded "We need to know about Ben Kenobi, the hermit that lives in the hills . . . out in the wastes."

Mamow Nadon stiffened slightly. Kenobi had warned him that this day would come, that it was just a matter of time. The Ithorian had seen his friend looking for passage off-world with the young boy, Luke. Ben had told him "When and if I leave the planet, it will be with the boy. Once I am gone, should anyone come asking about me, save yourself and tell them anything they want to know. By the time they ask, it will be too late for your information to be of any assistance to them."

Nadon took a sip of his drink, "Ben Kenobi . . . Ben Kenobi. I can tell you about him, but let's go out to the street . . . there are far too many ears in here."

The Outrider now sat silently camouflaged in the lush, dense foliage near the water's edge. Rendar exited his ship and moved stealthily along the shore, parting the tall grasses, advancing on the feeding herd ahead. There were approximately nine of the beasts, with the largest of the males and females ripping the kill to pieces, devouring their meal and throwing the occasional small piece to the gathering of young ones several meters away.

Rendar was close enough now to watch them . . . closer than he cared to be, but he needed this proximity to single out the best choice for capture. There were three youngsters watching their elders, but two of them had pushed a smaller one to the back of their group, leaving him relatively unattended. Rendar lowered his rifle and peered through the scope, taking aim on the small one in the rear of the pack . . . then he waited. He listened to the grunting and snarling as the group fed. One of the larger males swiped at another, growling and howling loudly . . . the sound echoing off the water. As it did, render fired a full-power stun beam at the smallest of them. The blue rings slapped it in the back and it dropped to the ground. The others continued eating, not noticing the fact that the youngest lay unconscious on the ground.

Dash reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew a small capsule. He moved as close as he dared to the rear of the herd and silently hurled the capsule into the foliage beyond them. There was a small flash of light, followed by billowing smoke. As the herd looked up from its' meal to address the smoke, he lifted the four foot "baby" Rancor off the ground, and draping it over his shoulders, turned and ran toward his ship. He was almost to it when one of the older, 10-meter tall males caught sight of him running and let out a horrific howl, and crashed off through the underbrush after the stolen youngster, followed by the rest of the herd. They tore through the muddy vines and grasses quickly closing the distance between their meal and Rendar.

Dash raced through the muddy terrain and foliage, vines ripping at his face and arms as he ran for his life. The dead weight of the unconscious Rancor over his shoulder slowed him down immensely. His foot hit the bottom of the Outrider's ramp and he glanced back over his shoulder . . . the herd was gaining rapidly. The interior hatch slammed down and the ramp lifted as he flung the rancor off his shoulder and ran for the cockpit, dropping his rifle. The engines lay waiting on standby until he slammed a control lever forward, raising them to full power as he jumped into his seat. One hand instinctively found the throttle, the other a directional stick. The engines fired as the repulsors pushed hard against the muddy ground. The landing gear feet pulled clear of the thick mud, retracting as the ship rose into the air . . . he heard the horrible scraping sound of the huge claws of his pursuers squealing across the lower hull as it ripped toward the sky. His breaths were deep and his heart pounding as the Outrider streaked away from Dathomir.

The 'nav computer beeped confirmation as he entered the coordinates for Tatooine. With a safe course plotted, he gently pulled back on the twin center-throttle controls, initiating the hyperspace jump. The dim starlight outside his cockpit window streaked into long, stretched starlines as the Outrider was flung out of the Quelii sector to lightspeed. As his body adjusted to the increased speed, he stood up and went back to the hold to secure his latest delivery. "Easy money" he muttered to himself, grinning as he snapped the stun collar around the neck of the Rancor.

Wailing Tatooine winds whipped across the open expanse of desert as an early-afternoon sandstorm advanced rapidly across the flats.

4120 lowered the shuttle to the ground near the domed entry to the underground Lars homestead as the front edge of the storm swept over the ship and engulfed the farm. The small band of troops descended the ramp into the swirling wind and churning, stinging bite of the sand. They were barely able to make out the shapes of several local people braving the wind and flying sand of the storm to move two large bundles down into the shelter of the underground dwelling . . . their loose desert clothing flapping wildly in the strong gusts. Our troops crossed the distance to the relative protection of the entryway. Danz, bucket off, had sprinted ahead and was hurrying everyone out of the storm and to follow us down into the homestead. When the last one was out of the gusting sandstorm, he stepped down the stairs into the darkness below. The stone steps had been placed by hand when the dwelling was built . . . sharp edges had worn smooth over the years, and there was now a slight depression in the center of each stone of the heavily-traveled corridor.

Felth led the small band, emptying out into a small alcove at the base of the steps. The thermal imaging in their helmets had activated in the dim light. The others they had seen had gone ahead a bit and were waiting in the corridor ahead. 0600, Rogue, 4120 and Blade followed Felth into the corridor with Danz bringing up the rear. Felth had his E-11 drawn and leveled at the others in the corridor as Rogue stepped forward "What's you're business here?"

The man in the front of the group pulled his goggles up into his dark hair, "I might ask you the same . . . I'm Huff Darklighter . . . I own several neighboring farms that share borders with this one. Several of my farmhands were out repairing 'vaporator units yesterday and reported seeing smoke over this way. They rode over in their speeder to check things out and made a gruesome discovery. The owners, Owen and Beru Lars had been savagely murdered, and the farm had been left in ruins . . . burning. I just heard about it this morning when I returned from a business trip in Mos Espa."

The second man in the group stepped up, removing his goggles . . . he was younger, also with dark hair "I'm betting you did this . . . the timing fits perfectly with when we were questioned at the power station", indicating the others behind him. The young woman next to him now raised her goggles and pulled his arm, holding him back "Fixer, don't."

"We were here . . . " said Rogue "and we spoke to the Lars' about the same missing droid you were questioned about. Owen said he had sent the two 'droids he'd just bought to Mos Espa for refurbishing and memory wipes. It was when we started asking about their nephew, Luke, that they both became defensive. Mrs. Lars . . . Beru, held us at bay with a thermal detonator, and inadvertently vaporized herself and Owen when she . . . dropped it." It was only partly the truth, but the gist of the chain of events was accurate.

The younger man edged forward, held back again by Camie, "You expect us to buy that?" Rogue turned to him. Moving closer "I don't care if you buy it or not. I don't answer to you and I certainly don't owe you any explanation beyond that where sensitive Imperial business is concerned . . . got it?" Fixer stared back as another young voice spoke up behind Camie "So where's Wormie?" Rogue leaned his head to one side to see past Fixer, "You mean Luke?" "Yeah . . . no one's seen him since a couple of days ago when he came blasting into the station bragging about seeing . . . a battle beyond the atmosphere." said Windy, realizing that Luke had been right. "Yeah" echoed Deak.

"That's actually why we're here" said Rogue, "we're looking for more information about Luke and the hermit of the wastes . . . Ben Kenobi." All faces went blank as a silence fell over the group . . . then Deak spoke up "I knew that old freak would crack up one day and do something like this." Huff Darklighter rolled his eyes "You don't know that he . . ." but Deak continued "I overheard my parents talking to the Lars about him once . . . he came here several times over the years, asking about Luke . . . bringing him gifts, how creepy is that?. Owen didn't like him much, and finally ordered him to stay away from the farm and Luke. Beru seemed to always feel sorry for him." The wind howled outside, spraying sand down the steps behind them.

4120 stepped up a bit closer "What have you got there in your bundles?" nodding toward the darkness of the floor. Huff leaned closer, "That's what's left of Owen and Beru. We were about to bury them when the sandstorm kicked up. We'll finish when it passes. These small storms don't last long . . . not like the Teeth of Tatooine."

All the troopers turned to the older moisture farmer, "The Teeth of Tatooine?" asked Danz. Darklighter nodded, "That's right. There are several deserts that make up the Dune Sea. Most of Tatooine is uninhabited by humans, only Sandpeople and some Jawas venture much beyond the edges of the settlements outside Anchorhead, Mos Espa and Mos Eisley. Not far out from here in the Dune Sea is a transitional area where two of these deserts meet. One is on a higher plateau than the other, and when the afternoon comes, the changing temperatures and air pressures cause the cooling air of the higher desert to shift and rush down into the lower plateau in a blinding daily sandstorm that hurls sharp rock shards along the sloping region, shredding anything left out in the open . . . hence the name, The Teeth of Tatooine."

0600 tapped Rogue on the shoulder, "We should get started with why we came . . . to see if we can find anything left behind that might help. The techdome and the power generator are total losses . . . the oils and fuels out there made for a pretty intense fire, but the hydroponic growing rooms down below us, and the living quarters may still be somewhat intact .

Rogue nodded in agreement, motioning for the others to follow, "You civilians wait here. When the storm passes, bury your dead and be on your way, this homestead is part of our investigation and off limits until further notice" as he eyed Fixer "off limits" and headed off down the hallway. The others followed him down the hall until he stopped and turned around, "We're going to need to dig in from here" gesturing to a collapsed portion of the tunnel. "Luckily, 0600 and I have a bit of experience with that." He pulled off his bucket, grinning ". . . right?" He turned and began clearing out some of the larger stone pieces, shoving them back to be moved out of the way. "It looks like just pieces of the tunnel frame casing . . . the sand here is packed almost as tight as rock." 0600 pulled off his bucket and set to work as the others did the same and moved in to help.

The slow-moving Ithorian moved a few feet further into the alley . . . off the main street and away from anyone who might have wanted to overhear. He leaned against the back wall of the Mos Eisley cantina, feeling the vibrations from the music inside in his bones. "Ben Kenobi, huh" he sighed deeply, silently gathering his thoughts, and silently apologizing to his friend, whom he still felt he was betraying, regardless of what he had been told. I met Ben Kenobi almost 20 years ago now, right here in this bar" he said, running his long fingers across the wall behind him with a bit of an unfocused, far away look in his eyes as he recalled the past.

"The day had been long, full of intricate experiments with my Bafforr trees and I was in for a drink to help me relax and re-focus . . . ."

"_You ever do anything except mess around with those plants?" asked Wuher. "You ever do anything except mess around with those drinks?" replied Nadon, sardonically, tipping up his glass. Wuher snorted . . . "Touché . . . but mark my words, one day I'll find the perfect blend, that perfect drink that Jabba won't be able to resist, and he'll bring me out to work at the palace as his personal bartender. I'm a young man, I've got time to figure out what he likes, and when I do, I'll be out of this place. What's so interesting about those plants anyway?" he said as he continued mixing and concocting the next drink. Nadon tasted his own drink as he formulated his response, "These trees are special . . . they are aware . . . they have a living awareness, not just a shadow in the Force, but a presence in it all their own." _

_Wuher laughed, "You a mystic too . . . or a Jedi? I could use the money I'd earn by turning you in" he laughed. "Nadon laughed as well, "No, my friend, I'm hardly Jedi material, although I have had no problems feeling the Force, sometimes stronger than others." Nadon didn't notice the cloaked young man further down the bar taking a sudden interest in their conversation. The music streamed across the open room and smoke hung thick in the air tonight. Wuher was busy keeping up with the drink orders for the heavy crowd._

"_I paid a pretty credit for each of my trees, and have been experimenting with their Force-presence and the effects of Ysalimiri on them and the Force around them." Wuher had stopped mixing the drink and was staring blankly with a dense expression on his face. The conversation had definitely taken a turn, moving it far above his comprehension level. Nadon smiled a small smile, "It's not terribly important work, but it keeps me interested, busy . . . and out of trouble." He raised his cup and downed_

_the last of his liquid intoxicant. "Thank you for the drink . . . but I must be on my way."_

_As he stood up from the bar, Wuher absently waved once with a free hand . . . he was mixing yet another new drink . . . another step on his quest. As the Ithorian ascended the steps to the front door, the cloaked patron further down the bar lay several credits down, threw back the rest of his drink and made his way toward the door as the dark-goggled Kubaz at the table in front of the band turned to watch him go._

_Nadon was on the darkened, empty street making his way toward his speeder when a second, human bar patron stepped out into the cool evening air. As the Ithorian climbed into the speeder, the human drew nearer, "Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear about your interest in Bafforr trees and Ysalimiri." Nadon turned his head 'round trying to make out the face of the cloaked figure in the pale moonlight. The human sensed his uneasiness and reached up, pulling back his hood, revealing a gentle face, "Hello there. Don't be afraid, I mean you no harm . . .I swear. I'm interested in your discussion with our bartender friend. It's been a while since I've been in the presence of a Bafforr tree, and was curious about your findings . . . with the Ysalimiri. I've heard rumors, but do they really generate an area where the Force cannot exist?"_

_Nadon leaned a little closer, "I feel you in the Force, my new friend, quite strongly . . . in the past I felt others with the same presence as you . . . another lifetime ago, before the madness. Yes . . . if I recall correctly . . . they do have Bafforr trees in the gardens of the Jedi Temple . . . don't they?" Kenobi straightened up a bit, hand moving to the side of his belt. "Don't worry, friend" said the Ithorian, looking around the dark streets, " I am as much a refugee as you are. I pose no threat to you . . . and have no interests in revealing your presence here . . . I promise. Would you like to see them . . . and judge for yourself about the Ysalimiri?" _

_After a brief moment of silence as Nadon's words sunk in fully, "Absolutely" came Kenobi's response. The arborist motioned for the Jedi outcast to join him in the speeder, "We don't receive many visitors, the trees and I . . . in fact . . . you are the first." Kenobi's face broke into a smile as he climbed into the passenger compartment and Nadon pulled away into the darkness heading for his home. "You said you were a refugee also. What happened to you to make you seek refuge here?" The speeder glided along as Nadon relayed the details of his life as a High Priest and highly esteemed arborist, and his banishment as they disappeared into the night heading toward his small dwelling nestled in the foothills on the outskirts of Mos Eisley._

It burned cold now, like fire-ice in his veins, racing through him, pulsing with his heartbeat, warming . . . and chilling him at the same time. There could be no doubt that his old master was near . . . and had been concealed onboard the _**Millenium Falcon**_ when she was dragged onboard. Vader remained silent as Tarkin's meeting closed and his top consultants left the room.

He watched as the last one . . . senior Imperial Commander in charge of operations, Admiral Motti stepped silently into the corridor outside. He was an arrogant peddler of the technological might and ultimate battle superiority that this new Death Star would bring to the Empire . . . Vader detested him. "I should have strangled him when I had the opportunity" escaped his lips and was faithfully reproduced by the synthetic voice enhancers in his helmet. Tarkin swiveled his chair slightly, staring coldly as the door to the corridor slid shut. "He's one of my top men for a reason . . . " the vein in his forehead protruding as he spoke, "he understands the necessary show of power it will take to keep the local systems . . ."

"He is an imbecile" Vader interrupted, ". . . a child in an adult's arena . . . but we have more important matters that have surfaced." Tarkin stood, his brow furrowing, "What matters?"

Vader paused momentarily, "I reviewed the helmet recording from the trooper on Tatooine. I saw a disturbing image on it . . . one which I have been replaying over and over . . . seeking clarity and not reaching any. With the capture of the Millenium Falcon, I have come to discover that my first impressions from the images are true. My former master is alive, and . . . he is here."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi? What makes you think so?" scoffed Tarkin, standing up from his chair. Vader responded matter-of-factly to him "A tremor in the Force. The last time I felt it, was in the presence of my old master." Images of the violent eruptions on Mustafar and the searing pain of the lightsaber wounds dissolved as Tarkin replied. "Surely he must be dead by now." Vader turned to him "Don't underestimate the Force."

"The Jedi are extinct . . . their fire has gone out of the universe. You, my friend are all that's left of their religion." As he finished his sentence, the comm on the table sounded. He keyed it on, "Yes?" The voice on the line replied, "Governor Tarkin, we have an emergency alert in detention block AA-23." The significance of the number sunk in as he keyed the comm again, "The princess? Put all sections on the alert."

Vader took a step closer, "Obi-Wan is here. The Force is with him." Tarkin glared at his dark friend, "If you're right, he must not be allowed to escape." Vader knew better what lay ahead . . . the inescapable destiny that had been set in motion when Obi-Wan had foolishly left him for dead, "Escape is not his plan. I must face him . . . alone."

* * *

Several annoyed Dewbacks shifted around, fighting for space in the small, pungent pen adjacent to the entrance to the Cantina as BoShek paced back and forth, carefully watching where he stepped. "How many times do I need to tell you the same thing? I knew of him, and flew him in a few things over the years, but I didn't know him. I didn't drink with him, we never played cards together . . . he was a job . . . nothing more. He had specific requests and paid on time. He came in yesterday looking for Chewbacca . . . the Wookiee from Solo's ship, the Falcon, and a fast flight out. I couldn't help him out with the flight . . . I have a job that was already loading up and takes me out outta here tomorrow. I had seen Chewie in the back with Solo just before the old guy came in, so I motioned for him to join us at the bar. I moved down to let them have room to talk, and I finished my drink. I didn't hear any part of their conversation while they were at the bar, it was too noisy.

Then, the kid that was with him must have upset old Doc Evazon and his Aqualish friend. They were about to extend the number of death sentences on their heads from twelve to thirteen when Kenobi pulls out a lightsaber and slices Evazon in two and peels off the Aqualish's arm. Who uses those things anymore? I moved around to the other side of the scene to get a better look.

Doc had eluded many a bounty hunter, and old Ben had dispatched him without breaking a sweat. After he switched off the lightsaber and helped the boy up off the floor, he introduced the kid to Chewie, and they walked past me on their way to see Solo. Now, my Wookiee's not that good . . . I couldn't make out what Chewie's part was, but as they walked by I heard Kenobi say _**'He is still alive, but that is all I can say, my friend.'**_ And that's all I know about yesterday, I swear."

"You said you shipped in various things over the years . . ." said Topolev, "What types of things?" Falker and Etz turned their gaze to the pilot as he rocked his head back, staring up into the sky in thought. Falker pushed one of the Dewbacks away, as it had wandered a little too close. "I'm thinking . . . it's been a long time, guys, and it was only an order or two. If I remember correctly, on one of the orders he said he wanted some security sentries because he lived alone . . . yeah, now I remember . . . the order was for six or seven seeker remotes with shock and stun settings only, no kill. I was only able to find ones with all three, but he said he could disable the kill function himself. I think there was an order for cable and cable fastening hardware, some tools, other miscellaneous things . . . nothing real exotic or questionable."

"He had been seen with Mamow Nadon, the Ithorian from the bar, over the years . . . do you know anything about him? asked Etz. He thought a second . . . "Nadon . . . I've had a few jobs for him too over the years, as well as some of the the parts suppliers in Mos Eisley and Mos Espa, Jabba, the B'Omarr monks . . . anybody willing to pay. The Hammerhead paid me to ship in trees, flowers and herbs. He really likes his plants . . . and a few small animals over the years too. I know he's into plants, but why he would want plants in a place like this is beyond me . . . too much work. Go somewhere green and lush and live there . . . much easier."

Falker spoke up, "What animals did he want?" "Little, fuzzy lizard-things . . . I picked them up from a trader in the markets on Corellia. I think he called them Ysalimanders or something like that . . . said he got them on Myrkr, just off the Perlemian Trade Route . . . you know, in the Colonies . . . near Tenaab."

Topolev glanced over to Falker and Etz . . . then turned back to BoShek, "Where's your current job taking you? We may need to speak to you again." "Bespin. I'm hauling out some mining machinery that was salvaged from the far side of Tatooine near the pit." Topolev looked puzzled, "The pit? I thought this planet was only inhabited in the areas around here?"

BoShek grinned, "Well, it is . . . now. Back when the Empire was busy coring out this rock, there was a huge facility on the far side that did the mining and shipping of the ore offworld, so as not to disrupt the locals. Check it out next time you're heading out, the far side has a huge coring entry point . . . this place is essentially a dead planet . . . a lot of Tatooine's core has been cut away. Don't worry, I'll be back after I make the delivery. This is just the first of several runs I'm making. One of the Bespin mining operations is having all kinds of supply problems and labor issues. Any automation I can supply, they're willing to pay quite well for. I'll be back gentlemen. I have nothing to hide . . . this time" he laughed.

Etz looked over to Topolev and he nodded, "OK, you're free to go. If we need you, we'll find you." The detainee slipped out of the gate and headed back into the bar as Topolev leaned over to Falker, What do you think Kenobi meant by _**He's still alive**_? Who?" One of the Dewbacks groaned. "Let's attach a homing beacon to his ship just to be sure we know where he is." Falker nodded and stepped out of the pen, glancing toward the Cantina door, then headed toward the spaceport.

Nadon shook his large head as he looked off beyond us, "Has it really been that long? I guess it has . . . where have the years gone." I pressed him a bit, raising my blaster somewhat, "So, Kenobi was a fugitive Jedi and you did nothing to identify him or turn him over to the local authorities all these years?" He coughed a bit, then responded, "After we went to my home and he saw the trees and Ysalimiri, the gentle person I had seen in the street was gone. He ignited his lightsaber, held it to my neck and told me that he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if I ever revealed his secret, or failed to help him with trees and other supplies he needed. He said I'd never see it coming."

Watching our body language closely, Nadon made certain that his lie had been believed. He and Obi-Wan shared no love for the Empire, and he had certainly never been threatened by the ousted protector of peace and justice for the Old Republic. Ddraig urged him to continue, "Tell us more about old Ben."

The Hammerhead drew in a long breath, letting it out evenly and slowly as he remembered the events of the past . . . carefully adjusting them ever so slightly . . . making Kenobi out as a dangerous threat. "I took him to my home and when we stepped inside he was amazed at the work I had been able to accomplish in such a barren place as this . . . ."

"_Incredible." said Obi-Wan, "You must have several dozen trees growing in here!" The Ithorian smiled "Four and a half dozen to be exact." Kenobi walked further back into the room, surrounded by the Bafforr trees, he breathed in deeply, closing his eyes, smelling the richness of the bark and leaves, the very small, pure presence of the Bafforr, stirring the Force . . . for a brief instant it felt as if he were in the safety and beauty of the gardens of the Temple. He missed his home, the only one he remembered having . . . he missed his many friends, now dead. The collective cries of their voices rose to an overwhelming roar in his ears. _

_He opened his eyes and pushed the screams further back into the calm of the Force. Memories, he thought. He knew that his friends were no longer screaming, they were one with the energy of the Force now . . . the screams were echoed memories, screams of anguish and betrayal . . . betrayal by the Jedi that was his padawaan . . . the padawaan that was his responsibility to raise and train and teach. He had failed so miserably with Anakin, and now the galaxy had been made to bear the burden of his failure. The weight of the responsibility bore down on him constantly, gnawing at him like a hungry animal. _

"_Are you all right?" asked Nadon. Ben nodded. _

_Nadon raised his head, looking up into the branches, "These Ysalimiri, when spaced with even, relative proximity, not only shroud themselves and the trees from the Force, they also create an area surrounding themselves that is a deadened zone, where the Force is not disturbed . . . effectively concealing a meditating Jedi from unwanted detection. You are more than welcome to come and meditate here in my home whenever you like. I understand your need to do so without making any ripples in the Force, giving your presence away."_

_Kenobi smiled as he glanced around at the trees, "I imagine keeping all these plants watered must cost quite a bit." Nadon coughed a bit more, as he nodded his head, "I feel like I own a small portion of **Darklighter Water**." They both smiled. Then Ben stepped closer to his new friend "If I were able to secure a way for you to water your plants without paying, would you grow me several trees and breed Ysalimiri for each?" The Ithorian blinked several times at the offer, "You have a way to do such a thing?" he asked. "The moisture farmers around here own all of the evaporative units." _

_Kenobi nodded his head "I do. When I first arrived here, I was given two broken down 'vaporators by an acquaintance who owns a local farm. I have repaired and restored one to working order, which provides more than enough water for my needs. I can do the same for the second, and bring it to you in exchange for the trees and Ysalimiri." Nadon breathed in deeply as he contemplated the offer . . . and Ben continued. "I have a need for an area in which the Force can be used, without its use being felt or perceived in the slightest outside the perimeter of the trees . . . that is of the utmost importance. How many trees and Ysalimiri would afford me a space the size of . . . say, twice the space of Chalmun's?" _

_The high priest from Ithoria calculated the space in his head, "A dozen should work nicely . . ." he said smiling, "I'll get to work on them right away."_

_Kenobi smiled and twisted a bit of his beard alongside his chin as he began making mental notes for supplies he would need. He only had a short amount of time before the training must begin. That had been the problem with Anakin from the beginning . . .his age . . . and too many attachments. He was determined to not repeat his mistakes with Luke . . . there was far too much at stake._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 – Thoughts from a Moisture Farmer's Wife**

Vader closed the file from the Inspection Team. Tyrell and a small band from Zeta Squad had been destroyed. The sole survivor from the unit, TK-1023 - Davin Felth, was still on-planet with the newly formed Moisture Farm Patrol. The missing plans had been carried overland by maintenance and protocol 'droids who had somehow managed to deliver them to Obi-Wan, who had escaped Tatooine with them along with a young moisture farmer named Luke. Luke. That was the name he had heard his Padme utter in his vision as he had seen Obi-wan holding an infant. What did it all mean? His child had died with Padme. Who was this Luke? It was all very unclear.

What was clear to him now was why the traitorous Princess from Alderaan had traveled to Tatooine . . . to seek the help of the hidden Jedi Knight and former General of the Republic Army. When the Devastator followed her ship through hyperspace from Toprawa, and her scheme for a personal visit and appeal to Obi-Wan for help fell apart, she entrusted the future of the Rebellion with two service 'droids.

She was desperate to reach him and coax him from seclusion and into service once again. Her desperation must have been vividly conveyed to him by the 'droids for him to leave the safety of the hiding place that had protected him all these years. He must have sensed the urgent need to deliver the plans to someone in the Rebellion who could use them. But, if there was such a dire and urgent need to get offworld with the plans, why would Obi-Wan have bothered to bring along a young farmhand? Anakin had seen his master's dislike for pathetic lifeforms many times on their missions together. His master was near, of that he was certain. All these years thinking he had been robbed of dispatching Obi-Wan . . . and now . . . that act he had dreamed of so many times was now close at hand.

The silence of his open meditation chamber was interrupted by sporadic reports on the communication channel he had left open. He had been scanning helmet communications for any indication that the passengers of the Millenium Falcon had been located. He wished members of the 501st were still onboard the station, but with its completion, they had been reassigned. Even though his personal group was not present, the station's troops would find them, it was just a matter of time. "Base, we're entering detention block AA-23 to inspect camera malfunctions and reports of a reactor leak." "Copy that." The information was followed by a short burst of static from the helmet of the reporting trooper, then silence as the Dark Lord pondered Obi-Wan's involvement, and the pathetic lifeform he had dragged along.

The silence was again broken by a short flurry of communications over the comm . . . "We're taking heavy fire . . . Watch out! . . . Step over him and get out there! Send more troops, we've got them cornered, they've retreated down one of the cell bays." Vader turned his helmeted head toward the comm. "More troops dispatched to your location . . . watch it, they're good . . . several officers down, send med 'droids. Wait . . . the firing's stopped . . . 'lotta smoke in here . . . switch to infrared and thermal imaging . . . advance . . . check all the cells. The Princess' is open and she's gone. Wait . . . what the . . . they blew a hole in the hatch covering . . . whew . . . what a smell . . . it's the garbage chute to the economy level . . . the trash compactors." Vader keyed in the location on a small console, bringing up the spot on a schematic of the station. He noted the location of Leia's cell and accessed the grid for the economy unit assigned to that bay. The screen flickered and then returned a number, 326-3827. He opened the scheduling screen for the trash compactor and keyed on the comm, "Good work. I have them from here." The trooper replied, a bit startled to hear Vader in his headset, "Yes, sir. Recall troops dispatched to the economy level."

Vader initiated the COMPACT sequence for the unit . . . a step usually reserved for dumping garbage before high-speed travel on the station, or a hyperspace jump on a Destroyer. The screen flashed an indicator note COMPACTING . . . he would soon be done with Obi-Wan, the boy and the crew of the Millenium Falcon and the plans would once again be under Imperial control. Vader stood and exited his chamber, walking across his private room and disappearing into the corridor outside . . . his cape billowing behind him.

"Secure this area until the alert is canceled." The trooper receiving the order nodded, "Give me regular reports." The rest of the group left two troopers standing on a narrow gantry, guarding access to the power generators that control the station's tractor beams. "Do you know what's going on?" The other shook his head, "Maybe it's another drill."

They failed to see the cloaked form of the elderly knight on the opposite side of the generator on a walkway no wider than his feet, high above a deep chasm. His old hands held on firmly to the structure as he deactivated the generator and found his thoughts drifting back over the sea of years to another energy generator . . . to the day he lost his master to the blade of a Sith. He remembered bursting through the dropped energy barrier to avenge Qui-Gon's death, and in doing so had decisively stepped into the darkness, embracing the anger and rage that had welled up and uncontrollably poured from him in a blinding flurry of chopping, hacking aggression. In the moment, they had felt right . . . powerful and fulfilling. As he had lived with the memory of those actions over the years, he had come to realize that while the outcome was achieved, he had overstepped the line and felt the seductive pull of the dark side. He saw how easily someone could crave more and more of the intoxicating power, as Anakin had by embracing the mantle of Darth Vader.

Methods he had learned over the years of communing with Qui-Gon under the Bafforr trees and the Ysalimiri on Tatooine would serve him well this day. The future was always in motion, but he felt deeply in his core that his ultimate purpose, his meaning . . . his part in the final correction of his failure would come as he sacrificed himself so that Luke might escape. While he knew this to be true, it was incredibly dangerous ground. He had lived and felt everything Luke would feel, seeing his master taken from him. A calm came over him as he watched the power level indicator slide steadily toward empty.

He trusted that his own control of the Force would allow him a brief moment to reach and calm Luke enough to allow for his escape. If he could not pass this final Jedi trial, all would be lost. Luke could very easily wallow in the hate he would most definitely feel for Vader. The memory of a larger than life Jedi father he loved simply for being his father had already been lost to the Dark Lord . . . losing the only remaining tie he had to information about that man might be more than he could stand. I cannot lose him the way I lost Anakin, he thought . . . I will not. He drew in a breath, continuing to feel the presence of his former Padawaan, and worked his way around the rest of the narrow foot path to make his exit, stopping to eye the troopers. Motioning with his hand, he called on the Force to create a distracting sound in the corridor beyond them, toward which they turned to investigate, "What was that?" asked one of the troops. Kenobi slipped from his cover and out of sight completely unnoticed as they looked the other way. "It's nothing . . . "said the other trooper guard ". . . outgassing, don't worry about it."

An Imperial aide was walking toward him as Vader neared the compactor cluster on the economy level. "They've escaped, mi' Lord. Only their concealing armor was left behind." Vader erupted, the Force shock waves flinging the officer against the wall. He fell to the ground grabbing at his throat, gasping for air as the Dark Lord whirled away heading for the turbolifts. He had to make his way to the bay that held the smuggling ship before they did. His old master would not elude him again. His mind raced as he entered the lift . . . they're trying to get the Princess and the plans out of here. The lift pod he was riding in was whisked away toward the docking bay level. When it stopped, he stepped out into the empty hallway. He turned and briskly walked until he could see the Millennium Falcon through the open blast doors ahead. His troops were still guarding the ship . . . he had made it in time, but Obi-Wan was very near . . . the sensation was growing stronger and stronger. He removed his lightsaber from his belt clip and ignited it with a snap-hiss . . . the hallway was deserted and he stood alone silently waiting . . . accompanied only by the hum of the energy blade held still in his grip, and the repetitive mechanical breathing that was the legacy of his last encounter with his old master . . . it was almost time.

The last of the large stone pieces was moved aside, and Rogue was finally able to slip through into the dark corridor beyond, "That's it. It's open from here on." The others grabbed their buckets and followed as Danz turned back to check on the Moisture farmers. As he walked along, the only sound he heard in the narrow hallway was that of the wailing winds above and the slight clatter of his boot heels hitting the uneven stony floor. Darklighter and the gathering of kids were sitting on the stone floor, waiting silently for the winds and the destructive flying sand to pass. Huff glanced over at Danz as the trooper stuck his head around the corner, then looked toward the ceiling of the alcove nodding, "It's starting to die down a bit now . . . we won't be here much longer. It'll take a short time to find the other graves, but then we'll bury them and be gone", he said, indicating the wrapped figures on the floor. Danz looked from Deak and Windy over to Huff, "Other graves?"

"Owen removed the markers from Cliegg and Shmi's graves . . . years ago now for some reason . . . they were his father and step-mother. I remember approximately where they used to be. I promise once we find them we'll finish up quickly and leave you to your investigation." Danz nodded as his electronically-enhanced response issued from his helmet, followed by a short burst of static, "Alright." Satisfied, he turned and disappeared down the dark hallway toward the living quarters.

Blade and Felth were busy rummaging through the room that had been Luke's as he walked past, while 0600 and Rogue were pouring over the private chambers of Owen and Beru just down the hall. Danz continued on and joined them while the others tore through Luke's room. There was a small sleeping area, a small storage area for clothing and a workbench with a stool. There were various parts strewn across the workbench along with flimsies containing design ideas for adding extra thrust to a landspeeder, 'droid modifications, 'vaporator schematics and a partially completed application packet for the Imperial Naval Academy. Felth was rifling through the storage area as Blade picked up the application, turned it over in his hands, then continued searching, holding on to the flimsies. There did not appear to be a connection to Luke and Ben Kenobi . . . at least in this room.

0600, Rogue and Danz were in a similar, albeit larger room and had already strewn the contents of several small containers across a table, along with several items found on the top of a desk tucked back in the corner. It was a small desk, and judging by the manner in which it was neatly kept, it was Beru's. Rogue was sorting through the bound flimsies and records as 0600 poured yet more on the pile before him. Danz joined in, helping to sift through the information, looking for something they could use. As they searched for meaningful information, 0600 returned to the desk, and was pushing one of the empty drawers back in when it jammed and would not go in the rest of the way.

Kneeling down, he took off his bucket and pulled the drawer back out, then leaned over to look inside the opening. It was dark inside . . . he reached for his belt, opening a small compartment, retrieving a small black and silver handlamp. He switched it on, shining the beam into the darkness of the desk. There, jammed up against the back was a stack of flimsies, bound in Ronto leather. A narrow strip of the leather was attached to one side of the cover and wrapped several times 'round to secure it.

0600 reached inside and pulled it out, turning it over in his hands, gently wiping away the fine dust. He switched off the handlamp and returned it to his belt. Then he began unwinding the leather strip, until he was able to open the cover to the first page of faded, aged flimsy. It was written in a woman's neat handwriting in journal format, although the entries were not dated, and judging from the content, were not recorded every day. The pages revealed insight into the daily lives of these moisture farmers, but 0600 was looking specifically for content of interest, scanning the pages superficially when he happened across mention of "the new arrival" and of Kenobi . . . he began to read . . . . .

_Our world will never be the same following the events of this day. Living out here in the barren expanses just shy of the Dune Sea has proven an enormous test for my endurance and spirit. Owen works hard to afford us a fine life, even more so after his father's death, but for a girl from Anchorhead, the absolute isolation is overwhelming at times. Much of my time has been spent keeping our home, feeding and tending to the crops growing in the hydroponic gardens, and having meals prepared and ready when he returns home each evening. I sometimes talk to myself, the droids and the plants just to hear the sound of a human voice . . . with Owen out working all day, the silence is suffocating at times._

_He's been on edge ever since our first meeting with Ben. We were told there was nowhere else to turn . . . everyone he knew and trusted had been killed or was missing and he urgently needed help to protect an infant, to protect a new hope for the future . . . our help. He said he would return soon with the child, the son of Owens deceased _

_step-brother Anakin, and asked that we keep him safe. Although he will never admit it, after all the struggling we've endured trying to have one of our own, this new arrival, this little bundle from the stars has rescued Owen and I as much as we have him. At long last, I have a child to raise as my own. _

_We argued at dinner about the whole arrangement. He knows we are family and are obligated to take the child in . . . I think it hurts him to know that we were not the first choice. He also knows Kenobi will want to train the boy, teach him all the mystical ways of the Jedi the way he did Anakin. He left our conversation quite distraught . . . as we left the homestead entryway and stepped out into the sand, he let go of my hand and walked away to stand at the edge of the pit, staring out into the fiery molten setting of the twin suns. His thoughts were clouded with anger and resentment. He had only met Anakin once . . . his step brother had lived far away, in the temple, following the teachings of his master, only to be killed in the wake of these horrible, turbulent Clone Wars. _

_It was then that Kenobi appeared, just before dark, slowly riding in over the sand on his Eopie. Owen saw him coming and turned away, searching for a way to do the right thing. The animal settled to the ground near the techdome as I watched. Ben dismounted carefully, carrying the child over to me. I took it from him, unwrapping his covering a bit to see a little face staring up at me. Kenobi smiled and backed away, as if his presence were endangering the child somehow._

_The infant's tiny hand wrapped around my finger tightly as I walked with him to join Owen. Kenobi rode slowly away into the night . . . looking back several times, as if questioning his decision to leave the child behind. I know this baby, Luke, will be safe here . . . I will keep him safe . . . I am a simple woman, but I clearly understand the importance of that. Luke Skywalker . . . there hasn't been a Skywalker in this house since his grandmother died . . . I wish that she were still here. . . I wish that he could have known her, and his own parents. There's plenty of time to figure out how to deal with that . . . tonight I'm just enjoying the innocence of him and the quiet we share._

0600 looked up from the page, "I think I've got what we came for."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 – Sacrifice**

Falker disappeared into the hallway leading to the docking bays as Etz and Topolev watched the activity of the street. Topolev pushed one of the Dewbacks away and turned to Etz, "We'll make a Sandtrooper out of you yet, Etz" and pointed to the sandy-colored dust clinging to what had been the stark white Impervium of Etz's legs. Engedi looked down, nodding "I guess so. Who would've guessed that a street kid from Corellia would end up a Sandtrooper on Tatooine." Topolev turned to him "I'm from Corellia too . . . what part are you from?"

Etz looked up momentarily, then back out to the street "Well, I'm not really _from_ Corellia that I can be sure of, that's just the earliest memory I have." He adjusted the pouches on his belt, "My parents were probably indigents, traveling planet to planet looking for a chance to work . . . I don't really know for sure. As an orphan I grew up living on the streets in and around the Naval shipyards . . . there were a lot of kids living on the street there. I remember one day watching a squad of Stormtroopers arrive, assigned to oversee the construction of a huge Super Star Destroyer. I was completely taken with the polished look of the troopers in formation. Over the years during the construction, I ran errands and helped with equipment and armor repairs, earning their trust along with fresh food and water. By the time I was old enough to do so, the troopers I had come to know encouraged me to enlist, and here I am . . . how 'bout you?"

Topolev thumbed off his E-11 and slipped it snugly in his holster, snapping it firmly in place as he spoke, "My old man was an Army recruiter. I was pretty much expected to be a soldier. Don't get me wrong, it's not something I didn't want, but the huge footsteps for me to follow in were several generations old by the time I was ready for my turn at filling them. I attended a private military academy until I was old enough to ship out to Carida." Etz pulled off his bucket and grinned, "Don't worry . . . I won't hold that against you."

Topolev removed his helmet, "I did my basic training and was assigned to a security detail at an Imperial prison on Dathomir. After several attempts to transfer out of that boring post, I was finally assigned to Desert Combat training on Dantooine . . . quite a change from the jungles I had grown accustomed to, which had surrounded the prison. My armor has never been the same since. I went to clean it once, when an older trooper explained that having dirty armor wasn't something taught in training, but it showed what you had been through. I haven't touched it since. On one of my training exercises we pulled off a raid against several spice smugglers . . . worked with Special Ops. I must have done a good job . . . they gave me a black pauldron when I headed out to my new post on the _**Leviathan**_, where I trained recruits for the next year or so."

Etz looked over to him "Sounds like a pretty solid path . . . how'd you end up here?" Topolev grabbed a loose saddle strap on one of the Dewbacks and cinched it a bit tighter, "An officer I knew was engaging in inappropriate conduct with one of the female trainees. On one of the training missions that we were providing support for, the two of us were arguing about what was going on, and there was an accident. Several trainees were injured and the officer died. Although it was never formally declared my fault, that was the aftertaste that lingered once the hearings were concluded. The next thing I knew I was reassigned and put on a shuttle. I got picked up from the _**Leviathan,**_ in the Talus sector, a few days ago and ended up here, just like you. If they only knew they were doing me a great favor . . . I always enjoyed my desert assignments."

Falker walked up to the other side of the corral wall as Topolev finished speaking, "Transponder's planted . . . we'll know exactly where he is." "Great . . . " said Etz, pulling on his bucket , "let's go find Ddraig and Deckard. . . see what they've found out from the Hammerhead.

Ddraig and I sat on several of the discarded intoxicant crates littering the alley as we listened to the story of Ben Kenobi. Falker, Etz and Topolev came around the corner and walked up behind us. Nadon looked up at the additional troops, but continued his tale, not missing a beat . . . "I knew of several places that might possibly work for what he had in mind, but the location we finally decided on was within the wreckage of the B'Omarr starship. One of the cargo bay outriggers that was deeply embedded in the sand seemed to be a perfect location. It would provide the much needed shelter from the suns and winds, and protect the site from the damage inflicted by sandstorms. Aside from being sheltered it also afforded Kenobi the necessary mounting points for securing cables and enough expansive area to set up an effective Bafforr tree perimeter. You see . . . he was creating a training arena . . . a secure, secret spot from which to impart the knowledge he had gained as a knight in the Jedi Order. The dozen Ysalimiri and their Bafforr tree nutrient hosts were my contribution to the scheme . . . .

_Nadon and Kenobi climbed over the stone and sand of the slope as they made their way up the hillside, noting the protruding starship thrusters of the ancient, ill-fated B'Omarr starship. _

_Finally, they reached a slight leveling of the terrain, and stopped a moment to catch their breath. The edges of the Jundland Wastes were nearby, with the edges of the great Dune Sea lapping at the base of the rocky formations. Nadon turned away from the amazing view and walked over to the small pile of crumbling ruins they were looking for. _

_Kenobi followed, and they both stepped up to the remnants of what had been a stone archway . . . an entrance created long ago by the surviving B'Omarr monks leading into a first, primitive shrine in which to meditate. Nadon waded through the rubble, moving toward what had been the rear of the small room. "The B'Omarr that survived the crash built this not only as a place to meditate, but a way to protect the entrance to their supplies" said Nadon as he lowered his shoulder to a stone slab and pushed with his incredibly strong legs, sliding the stone aside, revealing an opening with uneven stone steps leading down into cool darkness. Kenobi stepped up, putting his hand on the edge of the opening and leaning his head inside, looked around and asked, "How far down is it?" Nadon pulled out and lit a handlamp, "Not far" as he moved past Ben and began the descent. _

_He was careful to step over the remnants of a rope lying across the uneven, narrow stone steps and point it out to Kenobi. On any other planet, this carved tunnel might have been damp, but not here. Sandy dust rose with every step they took, curving deeper and deeper beneath the sand of the hillside until the descending tunnel finally led them down to a small hollowed out alcove alongside the exterior skin of the starship. Nadon moved to the right, running his hands along the durasteel skin until he found a small, recessed latch. He pressed it in with his hand, grabbed the center handle and twisted slightly. Gears could be heard slowly turning within the door followed by a hollow thunk as the latch released. The door pushed in and slid to the side with a scrape. Nadon turned back to look Ben in the eye, "Welcome to your new temple, Master Jedi" motioning for Kenobi to enter. He followed Ben through the opening, feeling and tasting a change in the air. _

_They emerged on a small landing, surrounded by a durasteel railing on the edge of a huge space. Ben stepped up to the rail, wrapping his hands around it, staring into the stillness of the dim chamber, raising his head to take in the enormous tubular structure they were now inside. To the left, the floor inclined slightly, angling toward the surface. Light streamed through openings in the skin of the starship's ceiling that was still above ground. A number of the skin panels had ripped off during their fiery descent through the atmosphere and headlong crash into the sand and stone of the wastes. To the right, the massive bay grew darker and sloped down into the sand where it had come to rest all those years ago . . . after falling from the stars. It was here, in the darker, more protected areas that we would set to work._

_The pair turned away from the railing and traced the catwalk along to a ladder which we descended down to the floor. "There are several levels of walkways, ledges and overhead framework and rigging that we could use to place the Bafforr trees and the Ysalimiri on. Each tree location will shield approximately a ten meter sphere around itself. If we space them out correctly, you can have a good sized training room in here with no worry of stirring the Force at all" said Nadon. _

_Kenobi nodded, looking off up to the ceiling as he twisted the hair of his beard, deep in thought. He was seeing himself training young Luke, showing him how to use the Force to balance himself on the stretched cable as if it were a wide walkway. He saw a small swarm of remote seekers buzzing around the young, blindfolded boy . . . saw him moving through the room, balancing on the wire and wielding his father's lightsaber to deflect all of the energy bursts like the skilled younglings that were slaughtered with it. He envisioned Luke meditating and centering himself in the Force enough to control any anger against his father he would have. "This could work" said the Jedi. "When will the trees and Ysalimiri be ready to bring out here?" _

_Nadon scratched his arm, "About three months to grow to a size that will begin to afford you the veiling you require." Kenobi nodded as Nadon continued, "Come, I have more to show you" and he took Kenobi by the arm, leading him deeper into the wreckage._

A small group of troopers hurried through the Death Star hallway searching for the fugitives. Kenobi slipped out of the shadows, feeling the presence of his old Padawaan much stronger now as he watched the troops disappear down the passageway. With a swift motion, he unclipped the lightsaber from his belt, drawing it up as he cautiously looked around . . . leaving it deactivated, but in readiness for the confrontation he knew was about to occur.

Silently he hurried along the dimly lit tunnels of the enormous battle station, slipping unnoticed toward the hangar that housed the _**Millenium Falcon**_. A deep concentration enveloped the old Jedi Master as he walked, envisioning the escape that Luke and the others must be allowed to make if there was to be any chance of undoing the tragedy of Vader. Centering himself in the Force, he made his way closer and closer to the ship. He was almost there . . . perhaps his visions had been incorrect, perhaps it might be possible to make it off the station alive . . . to continue the beginnings of Luke's training on Dagobah with Yoda. As he rounded the slight curve in the hallway that emptied into the hangar, his visions of that possible future path dissolved as he came upon the still and silent form of Vader . . . shimmering red saber drawn . . . waiting for his old master.

Ben stopped, taking in the view of the man that was once his Padawaan . . . his brother . . . his friend, as the dark Lord began moving slowly toward him. He saw the horrible, grotesque angles of the breath screen and helmet that encased the many faces of Anakin Skywalker. Kenobi saw past the protective blackness to the face of the young boy who had raced pods . . . who had fought alongside him . . . who had engaged him on Mustafar as an enemy, embracing the dark side of the Force, falling from the grace intended for the chosen one. Obi-Wan reluctantly depressed the activation switch on his lightsaber, remaining perfectly still . . . in his defensive stance, breathing the stale air. He whispered to himself, "I will do what I must."

"I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again at last. The circle is now complete . . . when I left you, I was but the learner . . . now I am the Master." Kenobi stared at him, hearing the ego of his old padawaan echoing through the deep tones of his new, simulated voice . . . he had learned nothing. "Only a Master of evil, Darth" acknowledging the Sith before him . . . Anakin Skywalker was dead and gone.

Vader, enraged by the comment, lunged at Kenobi, who moved to block the strike. Obi-Wan's body pulsed from the flow of the Force racing through him, illuminating him, binding him to the knowledge and strength of all those that had gone on before him . . . he felt every one of their hands on his saber hilt. The old knight had worked hard over the many years on Tatooine, hiding in the darkness of the wrecked starship . . . training amidst the Bafforr trees and Ysalimiri that had been intended to shroud the training of Luke. He had fought to remain in top form, knowing that this day would come. He also knew that he needed to toy with Vader . . . give the illusion of a tired, weak old man . . . occupy him and his attentions so that Luke might escape unnoticed . . . allowing the small ripples the boy was beginning to make in the Force to be overlooked by his father. Ben sensed Luke nearby, and knew that once the guards were distracted, Luke and the others would be clear to board and escape . . . he felt the presence of Qui-Gon behind him . . . the large hands of his master gently resting on his shoulders like a proud father . . . "Keep your thoughts centered on the here and now, Obi-Wan." He relaxed, and defended a flurry of slashes and attacks from Vader as they moved rapidly, searing the walls in a shower of sparks as they circled each other.

"Your powers are weak, old man" said Vader, pausing . . . wishing to continue toying with this feeble old knight a bit longer.

Ben confidently held his ground, eyes locked on the tinted lenses of the black mask, "You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." Vader slashed at him again, locking sabers . . . energy flashes illuminating the hallway as the hum of the lightsabers crackled in the silence "You should not have come back."

There was a flurry of motions, swords screaming and hissing, protesting the fury with which they were being slammed against the competing energy of the other. Ben and Vader moved toward and then apart from each other, whirling to avoid the deadly blade in their opponent's hand . . . switching sides in the hallway. As they did so, the troopers that were gathered at the entry ramp of the Millennium Falcon noticed the fight and double-timed it around the cargo lift to get a closer view of what was going on.

As he stepped back, noticing the troopers closing in on the other side of the open blast doors to watch the fight, Ben felt a small wave in the Force, deep down beneath the coursing and churning on the surface . . . a very subtle movement . . . Luke had seen them. He turned his eyes to the hangar, spotting Vader's son. His mind flashed over the many years he had spent protecting this boy, keeping watch from just out of sight . . . in silent agony. Leia was being helped to safety by Solo and Chewbacca, and the 'droids were already boarding. His gaze drifted back to Vader . . . trusting in the Force that the long-concealed boy would turn the tide, would restore all that had been lost . . . would redeem one, if not two damaged knights. He closed his eyes as he reached deep into the Force silently repeating his final warning to Luke as he raised his lightsaber up before his face and stood silently awaiting his fate.

Vader was not sure what to make of it at first. Then, the anger engulfed him . . . he was finished with the toying. He was enraged at the man who had turned against the Republic, turned his Padme against him and left him for dead. A wide, sweeping red arc of light cut through the air as he swung his saber sharply around, slicing through Obi-Wan at the waist. Kenobi felt no pain, only the explosion of his physical body transforming instantly . . . merging with the pure, warm, fluid energy of the Force . . . he was immediately overcome with the feeling that he was home once again. The others that had gone so savagely before him at the hands of the clones welcomed him. His tattered Jedi robes fluttered for an instant in the air and settled to the floor, his deactivated lightsaber dropping on top.

Having seen Ben cut down by Vader, Luke screamed "NO!" The transfixed troopers whirled around at the noise, firing on the group escaping toward the _**Millennium Falcon**_. Numbed by what he had witnessed, Luke finally raised the E-11 in his hands and returned their fire. He cut through several of the troopers before they had a chance to retaliate. The others in the group fired back, throwing bright red energy bolts sizzling past him.

Wary of a trick, Vader stepped on the piled fabric of the old man's cloaks with one his black boots several times . . . making sure that he was finally rid of the thorn that was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Solo blasted one of the troopers and yelled at him over the noise, "C'mon!"

Leia yelled also "C'mon . . . C'mon. Luke it's too late!"

Solo screamed at him "Blast the door, kid!" He managed to fry the blast door control panel and continued firing as the doors closed, sealing Vader in the hallway and trapping the remaining troopers. Solo and Leia retreated up the ramp into the ship under heavy fire as Luke continued to blast away at the troops.

The Living Force was churning with the focused energy of the newly received Jedi Master . . . his life energy was determined and focused to fulfill his one final task, pass his final trial . . . pass on a final warning. He had trained and meditated and followed the guidance of Qui-Gon for years. All of his learned discipline and patience converged in this moment of his passing. Somewhere . . . deep down in his core, Luke felt a momentary calm wash over him and he sensed the unmistakable presence of Obi-Wan . . . and felt the urgency and emotion in his words "RUN Luke, RUN!" Without thinking, he obeyed . . . and began his journey toward a deeper understanding of the Force as he ran to the safety of the _**Millenium Falcon**_.

Solo and Chewbacca jump-started the cold engines of the Corellian smuggling ship and recklessly lifted off, slipped backwards out of the hangar, careened around to an attitude of escape, and fired the main engines, blasting away from the station.

Crossing the voids of space, sweeping worlds the galaxy over, waves of change radiated through the Force from the epicenter onboard the Death Star. For most of the living, there was no indication that anything had changed . . . life went on as it always had.

For Force-sensitives throughout the galaxy however, a momentary tugging at their insides was felt as the energy equilibrium was upset followed by a slow, steady calming . . . just as a disturbance caused by a rock thrown into a still pond eventually ripples back to stillness.

As the wave raced through the galaxy, the tugging sensation washed through a small creature seated in the warm, flickering firelight of a small, dark room. It grabbed at the cloak around its shoulders with a small, three-fingered hand as the thunder rolled and heavy rains poured outside. Eyes that had been held shut in meditation opened wide in the dim light as the realization of what had happened settled within.

The Hammerhead stared off past us as if he were watching the events he was relaying unfold before him. "Having surveyed the darkened areas for constructing the Jedi training area, we moved to the extreme front of the huge storage bay and stepped through and over a gaping wound in the crumpled skin and twisted frame of the ancient starship to find ourselves in another stony corridor littered with rocks and debris. As we moved further into the depths, the darkness was closing in around us when finally we began to see a faint light from somewhere up ahead. The huge chamber of the starship we had left behind was completely dwarfed by the immense opening we spilled into at the end of the tunnel.

I watched as Kenobi came through behind me and took in the view for the first time as he planted the soles of his seasoned boots on the monolithic stone bridge that spanned a dizzying drop into the darkness below. I watched as he placed a hand on the stone wall and leaned back, tipping his head to take in the sheer size of the cavern we were now in. Light filtered down from an opening far up in the hillside somewhere, but the stillness and pressure of the air here was suffocating. As we moved out onto the bridge, we could see several others to our left, similar to the one we were standing on . . . one at the same level and others at varying depths, both higher and lower.

The starship had impacted into the sand and stone of the hillside and broken through into an enormous underground complex carved from the stone of these caverns . . . ."

"_What is this place?" asked Kenobi as his eyes washed over the intricate carvings in the stone bridges and arches. "I'm not sure" replied the Ithorian, I stumbled into it some time ago when I was first exploring the wreckage. However, from what I can make out from the carvings and primitive symbols, whoever it was that built them pre-dated even the Tuskens and the Jawas."_

Topolev spoke up as Nadon paused momentarily in his narrative, "We've seen the wreckage, but haven't been inside. You're going to need to take us there and show us everything . . . we need to see it all and check for more information, it's all important at this point." I nodded, "Exactly what I was thinking. C'mon old timer . . ." I said as I took the Hammerhead by the arm, "We have some exploring to do."

"Rogue and the others have the shuttle . . . it'll have to wait until they get back" interjected Ddraig. I looked over at Etz, "Wanna see if your discovery from earlier works?" He nodded and stood up, "I'll go see if I can bring her online, you guys head for the courtyard behind the barracks . . . I'll meet you there soon."

I nodded and began moving Nadon away as Falker looked at Ddraig, "What discovery?" Topolev pulled his bucket on as we spilled out onto the street, "You'll see."

Etz walked through the command center toward the barracks and the rear storage room as he pulled off his helmet. He grabbed the metal lever, pulling it down as he stepped away onto the center lift platform. As the lift settled to a stop, he stepped off through the open doorway into the underground cache and walked toward the bay doors they had left open. The transport sat waiting to be used as he advanced across the stone floor toward it. He jumped up onto the rear tailboard, moved forward into the cockpit area and set his bucket down as he looked over the controls. They were a little unusual, but not too far out of the realm of his training. Several switches were flipped, dials adjusted and then he pressed a rocker switch forward to bring the engines online. As he did this, he heard a slight clicking sound and a small indicator meter in the panel lit up and flashed, showing that the batteries were depleted.

He stood up and moved to the tailboard, jumped off and headed back to the other room. The luminaries overhead flickered and came on as he flipped the wall switch. The cannons were still in the way of the equipment racks, so he squeezed between them, looking the supply shelves over for another power cell. His eyes moved quickly over the contents of the racks . . . rifles, rations, blaster power clips. He bent down to look over the lower shelf . . . a thick metal slab of some kind, on top of which were more power clips, a few miscellaneous mechanical parts, and finally two power cells. Pressing the indicator tab on top of both showed they were at full capacity. As he grabbed them and went to pull them away, the wiring harnesses caught on something, some protrusion from the thick slab on the bottom.

He unwrapped the wires and pulled away the twin cells revealing a hand, thrust up from within the cold metal. Startled, he fell back across the aisle into the rack behind him, then raised himself to one knee and leaned forward to look at his new discovery. The hand was human, but encased within the metal of the slab. He looked left and right . . . taking note of the size of the slab as he stood, quickly making his way back to the transport to install the new power cell.

Topolev, Ddraig, Falker and I took our time as we moved Nadon to the courtyard behind our barracks. "Let's move up here and wait for Etz" I said, leading Nadon up to the loading platform. As we all filed on, the sand began to shake in the open courtyard, vibrating, leveling out. "What the . . ." said Falker as a mound of sand began to rise in the middle of the open space before us. As the sand dome rose higher still, the loose sand began to slide to either side until the fine sand rained down on both sides revealing the smooth surface of a magnetic shield being pushed skyward by something beneath it. Finally, the magnetic membrane barrier was breeched by the upper hull of the transport, pushing through the stretched shield, rising up from our underground hangar bay and slipping into the air. Now we could hear the faint whine of the engines as Etz brought her to a still hover above the shield as the bay doors closed beneath it, "Everybody In."

0600 and Rogue were in the cockpit bringing the engines online as the others filed in and found their seats. Danz was about to board, when he turned and walked over to Huff Darklighter, "What were the names of the other dead . . . the unmarked graves?" Darklighter was watching Fixer, Deak and Windy operate the sand disrupters to dig deep enough in the sand to properly bury the dead. He spoke without removing his watchful eye from them, "Cliegg and Shmi Lars. They were Owen's father and step mother." Danz nodded and turned to go, when he stopped and turned his head back, "What was Shmi's name before Lars?" Darklighter tensed a bit as he sensed even more danger for his son's friend, Luke, than the boy had already managed to find on his own, "Skywalker."

Danz nodded and moved away toward the shuttle. Darklighter turned his head slightly, watching the trooper go. What had Luke gotten himself caught up in, he thought to himself. The shuttle ramp stowed as the ship lifted from the sand and throttled away from the farm, leaving the small group of locals and their dead behind.

Our troops were well on their way back to Mos Eisley when they were suddenly surrounded by swoop bikers and small speeders. The lead swoop rider motioned for them to set down. 4120 glanced over to Rogue who cautiously said, "Let's see what they want." He unbuckled and called down the small flight of stairs into the troop area, "Weapons on and drawn . . . we're making an unscheduled stop." As he powered on his own weapon, a communication from Topolev came over his bucket commlink, "We're en route to the B'Omarr starship ruins, just checking in on your current position."

Rogue responded, "We've left the moisture farm and are on course back to Mos Eisley . . . we're currently stopping to see what a group of local swoop riders wants with us. Lock into the beacon I'm sending out and head our way . . . you can catch them off guard and come in behind . . . just in case things turn sour." "Roger that . . . beacon received . . . we're about five minutes out and throttling up", replied Topolev. The shuttle settled into the sand and the swoop riders circled around several times, then came to a stop just beyond their speeders, several meters from our extending boarding ramp. Rogue stepped down from the cockpit, talking over his shoulder to his pilot as he descended the stairs to the troop area, "Keep her idling and warm . . . just in case." 4120 replied "You got it." Rogue slipped past the troopers on his way to the ramp as they unbuckled, his E-11 drawn, "0600, Blade come with me . . . Danz, you and Felth cover us from the ramp."

Topolev crackled in his headset as he stepped down the ramp, "ETA to your position, 2 minutes." He stepped off the ramp with his weapon lowered but drawn. 0600 and Blade stepped off also, flanking him. The lead swoop rider switched off his engine and casually dismounted, slowly crossing the remaining gap to meet Rogue. Several leathery-faced Weequay watched attentively from the speeders, weapons at the ready.

The dirty rider wrapped in layered Ronto leather armor shifted his eyes to the troops on the ramp for a moment, then over to Rogue's crew, "Jabba the Hutt has been watching you and your men since you arrived. He requests a meeting today . . . now . . . at his palace. We've been sent to escort you to his chambers."

As he finished his sentence, our troop transport rose over a dune and slipped in behind the Hutt's men. Everyone turned to look as Etz allowed the rear of the transport to slide around, exposing Topolev, Falker, Ddraig and me standing on the tailboard, weapons trained on each of Jabba's speeders and swoops. Falker called out, "Everything OK here?"

Rogue locked eyes with the man before him, then replied, "Everything's fine here" he called back to Falker, "Jabba's ready to meet us . . ." he said looking over to the transport, " . . . I'm surprised it took this long." He shifted his attention back to the swoop rider, "We'll follow you. Etz, fall in behind the shuttle" and he turned to re-enter his ship passing Danz and Felth, "Here we go."

The superheated engines of the _**Outrider**_ gave up some of their heat to the dry, blistering afternoon winds in rippling, vaporous waves as Dash Rendar released the Rancor's stun collar from its bulkhead mounting. The dazed, semi-responsive beast slumped to the repulsor sled floating just above the deck beneath it, nearly knocking Dash over. He knelt down and adjusted the settings on the collar to ensure his continued safety. His last-minute decision to take a slight side trip to Corellia had taken longer than he would have liked. By the time Jabba decided he wanted something, he was already impatient for it to be delivered.

He pushed the sled down the extended boarding ramp into the heat. Stepping foot into the sizzling sand, he breathed in the hot air as he scanned the edge of the Wastes behind his ship. He had spent a great deal of time on this next-to-forgotten planet, but he was always struck by the untamed, rugged, stark beauty of the Jundland Wastes. The repulsor sled glided easily over the sand as he maneuvered it toward the base of one of the plate durasteel ramps just ahead. One of several large access hatches in the stone wall behind it had been opened by one of the crime lords many minions. He knew it led into the lowest level of the maze-like bowels that snaked beneath Jabbas palace . . . he had been through each of these hatches at one point or another over the years making various deliveries. He paused, leaning back to look up the almost vertical cliff face toward the summit where the domed turret of the main palace entrance was located.

Nysad, the Kajain'sa'Nikto guard that had opened the hatch, now pressed himself into the shadows, up against the stone wall as the sled with the Rancor slipped past him. Rendar paused and looked back over his shoulder as a swarm of speeders and swoops came rushing past followed by an Imperial shuttle and a final, large speeder. The group of ships raced past . . . the swoops and speeders snaking along the winding path the led toward the summit . . . the shuttle throttled up and ascended the cliff . . . something unusual was up. Rendar shook his head and pushed his delivery inside as the large hatch coarsely ground closed behind him.

Our transport silently approached the massive durasteel main chamber entry, pulling up behind the shuttle which had just lowered its extended gear into the sand with wings locking in the upright position. The swoop riders had dismounted and were awaiting Rogue and the others as the entry ramp began lowering from beneath the jutting cockpit of the elegant ship. Etz cut the thrusters and we slowed to a halt. Topolev grabbed his helmet and pulled it on as he stepped off the tailboard "This prototype gets my vote."

Falker agreed "Yeah, I'll take a ride like that any day . . . I like that it's open to the air . . . how does she handle, Etz?" Engedi climbed out of the pilot's chair and slipped through the narrow corridor to the open rear section "It's Cygnus Spaceworks . . . pre Sienar Fleet Systems merger . . . older technology, but very smooth . . . like a cross between the control sticks of a T-16 Skyhopper and a TIE fighter, but with the power of a TIE interceptor." I slipped my bucket on and powered up my E-11 as I stepped off the rear deck following Etz, "T-16s are nicely powered with twin DCJ-45 repulsorlift engines for liftoff and an impressive Incom E-16/x ion engine for thrust, but they're definitely no match for the interceptor." "Very true Deckard . . . very true" said Ddraig, securing Nadon to the floor of the transport with restraints.

The watchful eyes of Jabbas men were heavily on us as our group circled around the transport heading for the rest of the 104th. The Weequay from the speeder closest to the huge entrance gate was checking in with the weathered sentry 'droid. The bulbous, lighted eye darted to us and back again, then retracted abruptly into a small portal. A few moments passed when the massive gate lurched with the shrieking scrape of unlubricated metal on metal as the giant locking teeth of the lower edge disengaged from their recessed receptacles and the huge gate slowly retracted upward.

Under the glare of the twin suns, the cavernous space behind the entrance was shrouded in darkness . . . the imaging sensors in our helmets had not yet activated, and were useless for seeing what lay ahead, as we were still in the light. One of Jabbas men stepped into the darkness and another motioned for us to follow. I stepped between two of the recessed receptacles on the threshold and into the darkness. The others followed. The heads up displays in our helmets immediately flashed on as we moved out of the light. What had been hidden in shadow was now revealed . . . we were walking back into a huge entry hall. The high stone ceiling above us was spanned by heavy support ridges every five meters as if we were inside the ribcage of a mammoth animal . . . the belly of the beast.

We were herded across the sandswept stone floor toward an archway leading off to the left. Several spider walker 'droids silently ambled out of our way, each with a clear brain canister hanging below the body . . . fluid gently sloshing this way and that with a monk's brain suspended inside. Etz kept a wary eye on them as we passed through a dim shaft of light streaming through an open port near the ceiling. A pair of Gamorreans stood guard, one on each side of the arch. The pungent, stale odor of Gamorrean body odor radiated from their stained, well-worn leather armor as we passed between them and stepped beneath the arch. We were led into an empty, medium-sized room and our Weequay guide indicated that we should wait behind for a moment. He left us in the still silence as he stepped outside and spoke with the guards. They told him that Jabba was not yet ready for the Imperial visitors that he had dispatched his men to intercept. Tatooine was Hutt-controlled, and while he felt his authority was not in question, he was determined to make sure there was no room for doubt. Then, one of the guards was notified of Jabba's return to his throne in the main audience chamber.

Several moments later our escort returned, leading us out of the room and across the courtyard to another arch. We all stepped through the opening, beginning our descent down a staircase that lazily spiraled downward. A tall, male Twi'Lek entered the staircase from the bottom and made his way several steps up to meet with the Weequay leading our group. They spoke in hushed tones, and the Twi'Lek looked our way several times, then turned to head back down. The Weequay motioned for us to follow, as the Twi'Lek pushed his way through the crowded room, clearing a path toward the raised stone dais on which Jabba was stretched out. He was relaxing . . . smoking his pipe and conversing with several well-known bounty hunters. I recognized the Mandalorian armor of Boba Fett. Dengar Roth, IG-88, the execution droid, and several other low-life guns for hire all seemed to hover around the crimelord like a group of vultures, perched and waiting for their meal to finally die. Smoke curled from his flaired nostrils as Jabba spoke, "Mel wanta chim en Wookiee, jee Nolata tah da po nikee pa poonoo . . . gee nula sotta." (I want him and the Wookiee, but I want them alive . . . I want them to pay for what they've done to my business . . . I can't afford to appear soft.)

I stepped off the bottom step behind the Weequay as did the rest of the group, filling into the space that had been created in the crowd of shadowy onlookers as the Twi'Lek made his way up beside the reclining Hutt. The air was heavy with the thick smell of spice and a mixture of fragrant smoke. As we pushed closer we saw what had captivated the rest of the audience . . . they had all been gathered around a large grate in the floor. As I stepped over it and moved to the front of the Hutt's stone platform, I saw down into a deep cavern beneath the chamber floor . . . the sandy floor about twelve meters below. Several men were removing a collar from a stunned animal. My eyes drifted up from the scene far below and scanned the faces in the room as the rest of the 104th filed in around me. Minions from several dozen races encircled us.

The Twi'Lek stepped off the dais before us, catching the eye of the beautiful green-skinned female Twi'Lek dancer that sat, feet dangling in front of the mass that was the Hutt. As he passed, he ran a hand lightly over her lekku, making her shudder, eyes closed . . . repulsed by his touch. She turned away . . . it was then that I saw the heavy chain that connected to a band around her neck, the other end trailing up to and passing through Jabba's hand to continue on to an anchored fitting on his throne.

"Chowbaso!" thundered Jabba. "Welcome!" echoed the Twi'Lek, glancing back to Jabba, waiting on his next words. "Kee chai chai cun kuta? Kee madda hodrudda du wundee, della Tatooine." "What are you doing here? Tell me why you are here on my planet, on Tatooine?" said the Twi'Lek.

Rogue took a step closer to the Hutt, "We've been sent here to reactivate a presence in the city . . . in Mos Eisley." Jabba listened closely. "We've been charged with ensuring safety for the moisture farmers and the harvesting of their crops . . . we fully acknowledge that Tatooine is Hutt-controlled and we have no interest in your business, holdings or dealings, so long as they don't interfere with our agenda."

Jabba's eyes narrowed a bit as he looked us over, "Jobasco tuhn joffa Imperial?" (So, the Empire is not "officially here?") Rogue nodded his head down once, "That's right." Topolev and I were scanning every corner of the room searching for the concealed cameras that had supplied our predecessors with their datacard recordings. Jabba snorted a bit and laughed in a deep, rumbling laugh, "Ho ho ho ho" and waved a hand at us as he looked away, finished with us . . . and just like that, the conversation had ended. The Hutt's attention was now on to his dancing girl, Oola. "Da eitha!" (Sit by me now!) She cried out, "Na chuba negatorie. Na! Na! Natoota…" (No, No . . . please, no!) The Hutt's voice thundered in the small room as we were being led out, "Boscka!" Topolev looked over to me . . . I shrugged and kept walking up the stairs toward the grand hallway above. Something didn't feel right . . . it was too easy. The Hutt would be watching, that much was certain.

The tall Twi'Lek moved to the center of the room as we left, speaking to Fett and the others, "And now the matter of the reward offered for the . . . shall we say, disappointment . . . bounty hunters, come with me."

Someone coming down the stairs pushed past me on his way down toward the throne room. . . it was the human that had been unloading the animal in the pit. I heard him burst into the room, talking to Jabba . . . "I'm glad you like him . . . yes, he is young, but should grow to a nice size for you in a few years. Malakili seemed happy to finally have something to train. He's been far too long down there without a pet." Jabba laughed deeply and ran his hand down the his dancer's back, licking his lips as the man continued, "What would you say if I told you I could get you a pleasure ship . . . a luxury sail barge complete with . . ." The voices of the throne room trailed off and were now overtaken by the sound of our footsteps on the stone stairs as we slowly made our way up to the main hall. Jabbas men escorted us past the Gamorreans, out through the lengthy entry chamber and just outside the main gate.

One of the guards was waiting for us to pass outside into the fading sunlight. He turned away from us, retreating inside with the others as the gate began to slowly scrape down. It rumbled closed, sealing the palace, and we were left alone, standing in front of our ships, with the late afternoon wind blowing. "Where did this come from?" said Rogue as he walked toward the transport. "Etz found it", I said. Topolev joined in, "When we diverted to meet you, we were on our way to follow up on a lead from information supplied by Nadon . . . there's something we all need to check out . . . a possible lead for more information about Ben Kenobi . . . at the B'Omarr starship wreckage. Rogue looked back at him, then over to 4120 and 0600. Topolev continued, "It seems our outcast Jedi was working on a scheme to secretly train new Jedi."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 – Tatooine Haunts**

The small, furry Jawa hand gently closed around the grip of her Ion blaster. She was on her own for another three days until the 'Crawler came by and she needed this food. Breathing slowly and steadily, she took aim at the gathering of desert scurriers in the shadows ahead. When the majority of the little creatures were in range, she gently tapped the trigger and a blue haze of energy was flung out of the muzzle, washing over them. Five of the nine fell to the ground dead. The remaining four, which had been shielded by the others, ran away and hid amongst the rocks. Smoke rose from the less fortunate animals as she came out from behind her rock, holstering the blaster and muttering to herself as she set to collecting her dinner, dropping them one by one into a small sack.

As she did, the rock beside her popped several times, sparks flying, immediately followed by the report of a rifle. Cursing in her native tongue, she dove back behind the rock, rolling into the sand. Sandpeople, she thought to herself. Her hearts were beating hard now as she rolled over and crawled forward to get a look at where the fire was coming from. Glowing eyes peered out from beneath the darkness of her hood as she scanned the top of the cliff where it met the darkening sky. Nothing.

She scanned back across the ridgeline again and this time caught some brief movement as a raider's head protruded momentarily above the rocks. It raised its' head up again as she watched, the reddish-orange sunlight glinting off the metal eyepieces and spikes thrusting out of the wrapped bandages. It was looking for her, trying to find her again among the rocks. The Tusken Raider slowly moved its' rifle back and forth over the stone, staring through the site and taking aim on her general area as it sought her out. Then he fired several shots which ricocheted in a shower of sparks on the stone above her.

One of two Tuskens grunted as he worked to get a better firing angle, leaning out over the edge of the rock . . . and right into the center of Danz' targeting reticle. The seasoned Sandtrooper watched as the Raider moved its' head squarely in to the center of his sight imaging. He gently squeezed back on the trigger of his rifle, releasing a bolt of energy which burst through the head of the Tusken as it roared one final time. Immediately there was a second blast, taking out the other Raider, who slumped forward across the flat rock.

The little Jawa cautiously raised herself to her knees, dinner in hand, peering from behind her rock. She looked over to where the blast had come from. A kneeling Sandtrooper was rising to his feet, powering off his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder as he ascended the boarding ramp of his ship . . . a beautiful Imperial shuttle. The little Jawa's eyes glowed brighter as she momentarily dreamed of stripping and salvaging it. She came back to reality as she remembered that she was alive because of its owner.

A moment later, Danz reappeared, emerging from the ship with an armful illuminators to mark their descending path in the hillside. The hatch to the ship closed as he moved away, starting back up the cliff toward the tiny B'Omarr shrine near the top. The little Jawa gathered up her bag of food and scampered off toward a small cave to prepare her meal. She glanced over her shoulder once or twice to make sure no more Tuskens were watching . . . and to have another look at the shuttle.

The air in the depths of the ancient wreckage was completely still. Light filtered in from ripped openings in the hull far above. As Ddraig stepped off the last rung of the durasteel ladder to the floor, Nadon turned and continued to lead us further along the gentle slope into the darkness. He took several steps beyond the light, and just as my thermal imaging kicked in, I heard a woooshing sound fly past me on the left, then on the right. As I looked around to see what it was, a faint glow began to fill the room . . . a glow emanating from a dozen points around the room. I saw Nadon, arms raised up with hands open and extended, silhouetted by the glow from . . . trees.

I stepped a bit closer and pulled off my bucket, as did the others, taking in what we were seeing a little clearer. As I lowered the helmet away from my face, there were several more woooshing sounds that flew past me and disappeared into the darkness. The glow from the trees steadily grew brighter until we could clearly see that the glow came not from the trees, but from small creatures clinging to their trunks. The arrangement of trees was circular around the floor of the room, and arranged at evenly spaced intervals up the walls and across the catwalks near the roof. At their bases, were large watering basins filled with the roots and sealed around the bottom of the trunks to prevent moisture from escaping.

Cables were stretched tight across the room, side to side at varying heights. Nadon stood in front of a small, crude bench with a coil of cable on the lower shelf and a several small items strewn across the top. Danz came walking up behind us, and dropped an illuminator to the ground next to several medium sized storage crates as he pulled off his bucket. Nadon, with eyes closed in concentration, lowered his hands and laid them out flat in the air, spreading his long fingers just above the surface of the bench. As he did, the woooshing sounds streaked past us as a half dozen remote seekers flew in from the recesses of the darkness, silently whisking past and coming to hover just above the Ithorian's hands, rotating ever so slightly.

Nadon opened his eyes and turned to us, gesturing with his arm, "Ben Kenobi's Jedi training arena."

Laid out flat on the table, his entire body flinched and he reflexively closed his mechanical hand tightly around the rail along the table's edge as the med 'droid raised the control box away from the front of the bio suit and slipped the electrodes and tubes abruptly out of his chest. It immediately inserted a temporary replacement breather unit into his damaged lungs as the malfunctioning control box was taken away.

The flesh around the insertion site burned in the cool air. His glorious, seething power, his ability to wield the dark side and bend it to his will as he had enjoyed on Coruscant and Mustafar, was now as illusive and impotent as seeds scattered in the hot Tatooine winds of his youth. While he was still the most powerful of the Sith Lords to date, the chosen one would never realize the true depth of his abilities, never indulge in the intoxicating, sweet syrup of ultimate power he had but tasted.

While his Force abilities had been heightened and sharpened as a result of his injuries, the ability to channel it and command his cybernetic limbs, as he would have living tissue, was a constant struggle. Mastery over his new limbs . . . and pushing them beyond their calculated operating parameters required incredible focus, and routinely resulted in the need for painful re-fittings . . . recurring reminders of the now-distant pain that drove him to the darkness . . . reminders of that horrible, cold fear.

He gasped as the 'droid coldly removed the temporary unit and slipped the tubes of a new control unit deep into the spongy flesh of his lungs. His teeth clenched tight and eyes squeezed shut beneath the hard, dark angles of his mask as he fought to escape the searing pain . . . he reached into the Force, wrapping the dark side energy around himself as the 'droid secured the bindings and sealed the edges of the entry site into his skin with infection resistant adhesives. He felt the pain dissipate as he regained his focus on the duties that now lay ahead.

The Millennium Falcon had been allowed to leave with a transponder hidden onboard. When they slipped out of hyperspace, a trace marker would send back their position and they would be instantly located, Tarkin would see. Obi Wan's death had not secured the safety of Bail Organa's daughter as he had hoped. The Princess and her rescuers might have made off with the plans, but as soon as the Death Star was in position, that insignificant Rebellion would be eliminated, and the age-old Alderaanean cries for a return to democracy would finally be silenced, as the last of her royal house was snuffed out. The old man had died in vain . . . he should not have come back.

* * *

_Nadon sat on one of the storage crates as Obi Wan balanced, blindfolded on one of the cables above the arena floor. Four of the seekers whizzed past and around him firing random blasts as they flitted about. The blue flash of his lightsaber moved at blurring speed, deflecting the blasts away as he continued his walk across the taught wire. ___

_"There must be a way!" said the Ithorian. ___

_One of the seekers abruptly slammed into the ankle of Obi-Wan's boot. He allowed it to be knocked off the wire, while he maintained his balance with the remaining planted foot, "Blast!" ___

_He lowered the lightsaber in front of his body, deflecting several bolts as the ramming seeker circled the room preparing to dive toward his one remaining planted foot. As it streaked toward him, Kenobi reflexively raised the crate Nadon was seated on from the floor below. The Ithorian grabbed on to the sides to keep from falling off, as the crate flew up between the Jedi and the seeker. ___

_The small orb slammed into the side of the crate and fell away to the sand below. Kenobi deactivated his blade and removed his blindfold, maintaining a firm Force-hold on the crate. He clipped his saber hilt back on his belt as he returned the displaced foot to the cable, and gently lowered the startled Nadon back to the floor. The remaining seekers whisked away from him and regrouped just above the bench on the ground below. ___

_As the crate settled back to the sand, Nadon slipped off and moved away. Kenobi jumped off the wire into a backflip and landed with a spray of sand on the ground nearby. Blindfold in hand, and distressed look on his face, he turned to Nadon, "I cannot force Owen to comply. I know the need for Luke's training, but I will not revisit the paths of my failure . . . I cannot do that with him. I tried to deliver Anakin's lightsaber to Luke once before . . . Owen would not hear of it. He has the boy thinking his father was a navigator on some spice freighter. When the time is right, and the will of the Force has revealed itself, I will be waiting to uncover more information about his father." ___

_The Hammerhead closed his eyes, and exhaled, "Dangerous this course of action is." ___

_Obi-Wan turned to face the exiled high priest, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes, "You sound very much like an old friend. Point taken, but the information I reveal to the boy will be that of a very specific, certain point of view. Timing of the revelations is critical. He needs to know that his father was an incredible pilot, and a Jedi Knight who fought alongside me during the Clone Wars . . . that his father was deceived and destroyed by the dark side . . . by Darth Vader. Hopefully this will serve to fuel his desire to train and fight against Vader and the Emperor. He doesn't yet need to know that his father still lives." ___

_Obi Wan stared off into the darkness, "The pain of that revelation is one that must be handled very delicately." Closing his eyes, he saw images of his dying master, Qui-Gon, and remembered defeating Darth Maul in the duel that followed. He had stepped dangerously across into the darkness, allowing his anger to flow. He lowered his head, ashamed at the memory, "Any trust Luke may have in me could be shattered. Unless he is prepared properly to deal with the darkness that lies within us all, everything could be lost."_

* * *

We all stepped closer, into the warm, amber glow that broke the darkness. Topolev stepped into the middle of the arena floor and looked up as the rest of us followed, fanning out to take in the makeshift Jedi Academy. He leaned over to Nadon as he stared up into the trees, "Ysalimari?" The Ithorian nodded at Topolev and kept walking, "Yes, to shield the ripples that training would have created in the Force." We had all heard the stories of the secretive Jedi ways, the training facilities within the Temple, and the rigorous demands involved in mastering control of that flowing energy field that all living things created.

I stepped up to the waist-high bench and saw tools from various worlds, a small thermal blast furnace, dirtied abrasive polishing cloths and several tubular devices of varying sizes laid out on a draped cloth. Danz moved past me, dropping another illuminator into the sand as he stepped beneath the stretched cables overhead. I reached out and picked up the smallest device, rolling it over in my hand, wiping off a fine layer of dust. It was very simple . . . and I believe had originally been machined and intended as part of a thrust sequencing unit from a small ship, its type unknown to me. Somehow, though, I didn't think it would ever see service as a thrust sequencer again.

One end was sealed with a cap. The length of the shaft had been fitted with a series of traction grips, and set into the handle was a button. What appeared to be the business end of the device culminated in a small concave dish, with an emitter of some type mounted down inside. I held it out upright before me and pressed the button. As the button made contact with the internal components, I felt a subtle, shuddering vibration in the palm of my hand as a shimmering blue blade sprang up from the emitter, extending to a length of about 2 feet.

I could feel the pulsing, coursing energy rippling from the handle as the others whirled around to see what I had found, the blue light dancing in highlights across their armor. The abbreviated blade length was puzzling. I had seen lightsabers before, but never with a blade so short. I swept the blade back and forth, the low, rumbling static humming as I did so. Nadon stepped over to me as the others gathered around, "Training sabers. Ben built these for training Jedi of all ages." He reached for the saber, and I released it to him. "They're strong enough to deflect a low grade energy burst, but weak enough to only deliver a mild burning sensation" and he swiped the blade across his free arm, with no damage.

"Full intensity blades would not be a good idea for training younglings" he said, as he snapped off the lightsaber. He placed the hilt back on the bench as his hands drifted over the others, "There are several here of varying sizes and diameters, to accommodate the growth of the child's hand and increasing ability levels. All of these are training sabers. The student, or Padawaan, as the Jedi call them, must ultimately build their own lightsaber after passing their trials, as one last symbol of attaining their full Jedi Knight status. That's what the little blast furnace was for, cooking and refining the crystals to a pure enough state for use in building these."

Felth stepped closer to the table, his eyes moving across the bench, taking note of the number of sabers laid out across the cloth. Rogue picked up several small square devices from the benchtop, "Holoprojectors?" Nadon nodded, blinking his tired eyes, "He created holographic images of himself moving through classic fighting styles to use as a training tool for the Padawaans. As it turns out, Ben was the only one who ever used this place."

Felth looked up, "You mean no Jedi were trained here?" Nadon nodded again, "That's correct." The trooper looked annoyed, "You expect us to believe that this old guy was hiding out here since the Old Republic fell and he never trained a single Jedi?" The Ithorian refugee stared back at him and replied, "Yes, that's correct. It was his intention to be a beacon, and to build a safe haven to any surviving Jedi or possible Jedi candidates, but the rapidly growing influence of the Empire and the fear of repercussions kept anyone from ever coming forward.

After several years, he resigned himself to the fact that he must be the last of his Order, and used this facility to meditate and keep himself active, but it was never used for instruction, as its design was intended. The galaxy eventually came to realize that the Jedi had not abandoned them, but had in fact been the first victims of deception, destroyed by the Emperor because they stood in his way. By the time that realization occurred, there were no Jedi left."

Felth flipped on the power switch on his E-11 and drew his blaster, pointing it at the Hammerhead, "I should kill you right here for that kind of treasonous talk." It was a fantastic show, fabricated to show a loyalty to the Empire that Felth no longer possessed. The Ithorian stared blankly back at the trooper without flinching, "I am old, and no threat to you. My death will not serve the Empire, but if that is my fate, kill me." Rogue put a hand on the muzzle of Felth's blaster, lowering it, "That won't be necessary, trooper." He had killed more Ithorians on Belliran V than he cared to remember, he did not need the blood of another on his hands, "I have searched the holonet databases searching for a "Ben Kenobi" since we learned his name, and have turned up nothing of interest except _Kenobi Freightways,_ headquartered on Bakura. What is this Jedi's true name?"

Nadon paused. He knew Kenobi was dead, he had felt the passing and his connection with Kenobi shift as his friend had become one with the Force. "You will find record of him as General Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Two of the three silvery moons orbiting the planet now illuminated the sands under a gleaming canopy of stars as Rogue closed the cover on his holonet fieldpack. The findings of our search to date had successfully transmitted. Everything we had uncovered about the old Jedi, BoShek, Momaw Nadon, the Lars' and Luke Skywalker was now waiting for the Dark Lord's review. Vader needed to be kept abreast of the unfolding search and any new findings about Ben, Obi-Wan, Kenobi. The smallest detail might seem insignificant, but could prove monumental in the recovery of the stolen data and the apprehension of the last Jedi and his apprentice. While it was of top importance, we still needed more detailed information about this Jedi Training Arena before it was officially reported.

The crisp night air was a sharp contrast to the blasting heat of the day. Rogue reclined back against the rock behind him and breathed in the cool air as the black thermal glove kicked in beneath the plating of his armor, sensing a dip in skin temperature. It was now warming him using energy captured from the twin suns. The trip back to Mos Eisley would be a long one, and he was tired from the events of the long day. They had the meeting with the moisture farmers in the morning, and being around the Hammerhead unnerved him quite a bit . . . too many memories from Belliran V, but he decided they would camp here for the night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 – Chasms and Trenches**

Data intensive status reports scrolled rapidly across several large illuminated screens, but Wilhuff Tarkin sat swiveled 'round, staring out the large portal behind his desk. His face was coldly emotionless . . . his thoughts were not of his precious statistics, but of the power that was now under his control . . . the power to simply wipe planets from the heavens if they dared resist the Emperor.

He had worked long and hard to finally be seated here watching Imperial history unfold around him. Many had died to bring this station and his new command to life . . . although not nearly enough of those dirty Wookiees, he thought.

The stars slipped silently past as the Death Star advanced on the Yavin system. Vader's little plan had worked. He had successfully located the Millennium Falcon and set course for the fourth moon in the system. Although his grand creation lacked hyperdrive, it was tracking along quite nicely at sub-light speeds. It had left the debris field that had been Alderaan in its wake, slipped silently past Phindar, and was now bearing down on the giant, gaseous planet of Yavin.

The moon in question was in mid-orbit, on the far side, and would soon be in range of the main Superlaser. Tarkin amused himself as he thought of the Rebels hidden somewhere among the dense jungle forests and the abandoned stone temples of the once-proud Massassi, scurrying to find a way to escape the deadly shadow cast by the monstrous station. He stood, straightened his tunic and exited his chambers, heading for the Superlaser observation deck . . . he wanted a good view of the end of the Rebellion.

While _**"Ben" Kenobi**_ had returned nothing from earlier holonet queries, 4120 thumbed the controls of his holo-pack scrolling through the many entries highlighting the exploits of Jedi Knight and General, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The hooded old man that had skillfully eluded Tyrell with a casual mind trick on the sweltering streets of Mos Eisley had been a major player during the Clone Wars.

Not only had he been the Jedi to uncover the origins of the clone army and the battle 'droid manufacturing facility on Geonosis, but he battled Count Dooku and General Grievous with his Padawaan during their rescue of Senator Palpatine. His Padawaan killed Dooku onboard Grievous' starship, _the Invisible Hand_, while Kenobi himself later caught up with and killed Grievous on Utapau, just prior to the issuing of Executive Order 66.

Every holo entry abruptly ended there . . . with the issuing of Order 66. One report stated it was believed that Commander Cody and his men on Utapau had delivered the killing blow to the Jedi when his Boga was blasted out from beneath him, and both had fallen from the rocky cliffs overhead into the deep, icy waters below. Although a body was never recovered, it was believed that he must have been killed in the fall from such a height . . . until now.

4120 switched off his pack as Rogue reappeared from out of the darkness, "All the data we have so far has been sent. Where is everyone?" 4120 stood and slipped his holo-pack back in its belt pouch as he replied, "Ddraig and Danz have gone ahead deeper into the ship with the Hammerhead to scout around a bit. 0600, Deckard and Felth are checking out the crates and supplies over there", he said, gesturing to a dim area near the upward-curving walls of the ship, "I'm not sure where the others are." Rogue sat down, exhaling. "Now we wait. Vader has the information . . . hopefully it's enough to help somehow", he said rubbing his forehead. 4120 silently nodded his agreement as he glanced over at us.

0600 broke the seal on one of the crates and Felth and I forced the lid open. I bent down and picked up one of the illuminators from the sand, holding it over the opening. Inside were ten or so rolls of fabric. Half were a light material of a sandy color. The remaining rolls were darker and heavier. 0600 reached in and dug beneath the fabric, revealing several pairs of boots in varying sizes, each with a leather belt tucked inside. There were no weapons . . . simply the materials and supplies to clothe the weapons he hoped to raise and train in this crude facility . . . hopes that had never been realized.

Disgusted, Felth moved to the next crate, breaking the seal and throwing open the lid. Inside were a dozen large, square cushions. "Cushions?" he yelled. "There are cushions up here too", called Falker from under one of the Bafforr trees on a durasteel catwalk landing above. He had been exploring the upper areas of the arena with Topolev and the others. "Looks like a perfect place for a Jedi to sit and meditate."

4120 leaned over to Rogue, both staring up at Falker, "That's where the others are." Rogue shot him a sideways glance.

"I'm getting some air", snarled Felth as he crossed the sandy floor heading for the exit hatch. I watched him go, sporadically appearing out of the black darkness as he passed by each of the five illuminators lined up between us and the durasteel ladder leading up to the hatch in the hull.

"Let him go", said 0600. "He's used to starship duty . . . he wants a little action, not fabric."

I watched him as he disappeared through the hatch, "He has a lot to learn about what _action_ involves."

Felth emerged from the stone tunnel into the cool night air. Millions of stars pierced the darkness of the sky as he circled around behind several large rocks. He set down his helmet and looked around, waiting . . . listening. While he was fairly certain no one had followed him, he had to be sure. Finally, convinced no one had trailed him, his irritated demeanor melted away as he quickly unsnapped one of his belt pouches, pulled out his holo-pack and flipped back the cover. As the small screen flickered to life, he keyed in a brief description of the training arena we had discovered and its coordinates, as well as a few lines about having just missed General Kenobi at Mos Eisley as he left on the Millennium Falcon. Once finished with his entry, the device prompted him for a transmission password. He entered the sequence he had received from his Bothan friend on Kothlis. He exhaled sharply as the code finally authenticated. He glanced over the top of the rock to make sure he was still alone as the screen flashed a request for the name of the recipient to whom he wrote.

He took a breath, entered the name . . . _**Base One - Jan Dodonna **_and pressed the transmit button.

A squadron of X-wing fighters raced across the surface of the massive space station, strafing gun turrets and towers with crimson blasts from their wingtip cannons as they streaked past. They pulled up and re-grouped high above the surface, only to cut sharply across the axis, drawing the fire from the turret cannons as a formation of Y-Wings dove into the man-made canyons of the Death Star's equatorial trench. They twisted and rolled as strategically placed drive system defense gun turrets along the rim of the trench blasted away at them to no avail.

An Imperial officer, standing by a monitor in one of the many tech stations, studied the green letters and numbers of the battle reports. They scrolled past on the monochrome screen as the station's computers compiled damage reports and hit/miss ratios. He suddenly realized that although the Death Star could easily blast away an entire planet, it was having a difficult time defending itself against the swarming rebel snubship fighters. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, as he studied the reports from the turbolaser towers he realized . . . they were almost completely ineffective. If the Rebels were able to get past the guns and get to the reactor's thermal exhaust port . . .

He had to find Lord Vader . . . quickly.

A final dot of light faded to black in the center of the screen as the Dark Lord switched off the data terminal and sat back in his padded chair. Cool air hissed in through vents in the pressure chamber as he began sifting what he had just read. He rested his bare head in his gloved hand, eyes closed, remembering his wife, and the child that he thought had died with her, by his hand. Chaos churned in the twisted recesses of Vader's brain as his fingers traced the thick, deformed skin of the scar that ran across his scalp. His mechanically-assisted heart raced. Palpatine hadn't foreseen this, and neither had he.

Luke Skywalker . . . Luke.

He had a son . . . a Force-sensitive son that had been hidden and protected by his former master. "Obi-Wan was wise to hide him from me" he thought to himself. Emotions that Anakin had not felt or even remembered existed were now dimly lit within him. Somewhere out there was the last piece . . . the last connection he had to his Padme. He slammed a fist down on one of the control buttons and his facemask and helmet lowered into place, locking and sealing on his head as the giant faceted sphere split apart in the center with the rush of escaping air.

Swarming Rebel fighters continued to strafe the surface of the station. The young officer looking for Lord Vader rushed through a corridor as it exploded around him, throwing him to the floor. Walls buckled, smoke and sparks filled the corridor as a trooper helped him up. He quickly checked himself for injury, then raced off in search of the Dark Lord. He had almost reached the next monitoring station when he saw the dark figure of Lord Vader pass by in the intersecting hallway ahead. "We count thirty Rebel ships, Lord Vader. But they're so small they're evading our turbo-lasers!"

Vader stopped and turned to him, "We'll have to destroy them ship to ship. Get the crews to their fighters." As the Sith Lord turned to walk away, he felt a small, fluttering wave in the Force. A sensation he had not felt before. It was a feeling of recognition . . . like he had felt in the presence of Kenobi, but much fainter, like a whisper in a driving wind. Somewhere deep inside, he could feel that his son was near, and the sensation was doing nothing but growing stronger. Luke was just a boy, and Kenobi was dead . . . his son could no longer be mentored by the Jedi who had failed him. Abruptly, he turned and walked away toward the turbolift. Tarkin would be expecting him on the Superlaser observation deck.

Danz and Ddraig climbed down off the tall rubble pile of stone and twisted durasteel girders, illuminators held high. Nadon stopped to catch his breath, "There's a small breech in the hull just ahead, and an opening in the stone behind it that we must pass through in order to proceed."

"What's in there?" asked Ddraig. The Ithorian high priest blinked his eyes slowly, turning them to Ddraig, "I could tell you, but it won't even come close to capturing all that awaits. You need to see this with your own eyes to appreciate it." Ddraig shot a look to Danz who shrugged his shoulders, "OK, let's get moving so we can appreciate it up close."

Their tired guide stood and moved past them into the darkness ahead, carefully moving around the sharp, jagged edges of the durasteel hull skin that was peeled back from the sheared opening. They followed him into the stony opening beyond the hull and walked on several yards, navigating through the narrow crack in the rock until they stepped out into a much larger chamber. "Wait!" said Nadon. "You must be very careful here. There's a long drop to either side of the path we're on. You can see it more clearly in the day, as some light filters in through openings above."

Both troopers, having left their helmets behind, stood very still until their eyes slowly adjusted, and the dim chamber became more visible.

The enormous space was larger than they could have imagined. Nadon went ahead, crossing the stone bridge and through twin carved columns situated on either side of an ornately carved arch which led to another chamber ahead. Danz and Ddraig followed slowly, taking everything in. The room opened into a common area, connecting all of the bridges like the hub of an enormous wheel. In its center were massive stone stairs, spiraling up and down to all levels.

Danz and Ddraig moved past, heading for the stairs and were about to descend when Nadon stopped them and sat down on a stone block, "The stairwell passage has collapsed that way. There is no way down from here, only up."

The two troopers looked at each other and turned to head back to the bridge. Danz was staring down to the bridge below, "So how far down would you say it is to the next level?" Ddraig was trying to estimate the distance as Danz pulled a small folded grappling hook from a compartment on the rear of his belt and fished out some line. "It looks like a good fifteen to twenty meters. Why?"

Danz stood up and passed the grappling hook around one of the stone columns that flanked the archway they had passed through to reach the steps. He wrapped it completely around and locked the hook around the cable. "I'm going down to see if the steps are clear from that point down. If they are, we can repel down to the next level and then walk down from there." Ddraig didn't much care for the idea, but knew there was no other way down. Danz stepped back off the bridge and had begun walking down the face of the stone wall toward the bridge below as Nadon caught up to them, "That is not the best of ideas. Dangerous this is. Old are these stone carvings, and delicate, fragile even."

As he spoke, the stony column shifted with the crunching scrape of stone on stone. Ddarig dove toward the stone, pressing his shoulder into it "No, No No . . . don't you do it!" Nadon turned to help, lowering his shoulder and straining with his powerful legs. Try as they might, they could not stop the stone from sliding off its base and begin dragging toward the edge of the bridge, "DANZ! The stone is going over the edge! Get down to that bridge, GET OFF THE CABLE!" As he yelled, Danz hurried to reach the bridge, and as he was about to step foot on it, the column stone slid over the edge and into the darkness.

"Draig screamed into the blackness below, "UNHOOK FROM THE LINE! UNHOOK"

The stone dropped and slammed into the bridge below with a huge thudding sound that echoed loudly in the still, silent chamber . . . bouncing off the stony walls. The column shifted to one side as Danz fought to unclip the grappling assembly from his belt, but the stone toppled and fell over the edge of the lower bridge before he could release. It jerked him hard, off the lower bridge and into the blackness below with the huge column falling again to the second bridge down. He grabbed for his holstered E-11 as he fell, far out of sight and deep into the darkness of the chasm. There were several flashes of crimson light and the sound of blaster fire, followed by a final bone-shattering crash as the column hit bottom . . . then nothing

"DANZ!" yelled Ddraig. But there was only silence returned from below.

Troopers rushed through the hallway as Lord Vader addressed two TIE pilots, "Several fighters have broken off from the main group. Come with me." Turning, he led the way down a corridor toward the TIE hangar bay that housed his modified fighter, "An analysis of the plans for the station have presented a potential weakness in its design. It could possibly be exploited if the Rebels have also managed to arrive at a similar conclusion."

He stepped through an open blast door onto a gantry, high above the flight deck, leading out into the mammoth hangar. As he arrived at the opened canopy hatch for his fighter, he turned once more to his accompanying pilots, "Stay close to me. You are only to fire when I say so . . . and obey my every command." With that, he turned and slipped into the seat of his fighter as droids moved in to secure and prep him. The pilots walked away toward their own standard TIEs.

Vader strapped himself in as his mind raced . . . he had to be very careful. He wanted to strip away all support, all wingmen, all friends from Luke and disable his ship enough to force a landing in a secured bay. If he could manage this . . . perhaps the boy could be swayed to join him, and his days of bowing to Palpatine might become numbered. He and his son could rule the galaxy . . . leading the Empire he had forged so many years ago. Quickly he cleared his mind. Palpatine was very powerful. He could not risk the Emperor sensing his true intentions.

Overhead mechanical arms securing his fighter released as his repulsors and engines came online. The other two TIEs were also released moments later, and he maneuvered carefully toward the magnetic shield at the bay door as his wingmen formed up on either side. He throttled up, pushing through the magnetic membrane into the cold of space outside to join the battle, his wingmen close. "Stay in attack formation" he commanded over the comm as he banked his ship to the right.

_Rogue was in full gear running across an open courtyard as a deafening crack of lightning split the night air and heavy rain began to pour down. Several explosions rocked the ground as he ran, lighting up the thick smoke in the air behind him. He paused momentarily as 0600 and several others came running up to join him, and squeezed off several shots at those advancing from behind. "There's one shuttle left on the pad, we've gotta get over there if we want any chance of surviving this." The ground exploded behind them, spewing dirt and small bits of duracrete debris through the air, instantly flung on the concussive shockwave. It blasted into their armored plates like a giant fist, knocking them all into the mud. "They're getting closer, let's go!" Another slash of lightning tore through the sky, accompanied by a chest-pounding clap and the disturbing roll of the moody thunder that followed. _

_As they ran through the smoke and rain, Rogue turned his head catching sight of his Squad leader, across the quad, pulling off his helmet, grabbing a T-21 repeating rifle from the hands of one of the dead troopers on the ground, and charging to the top of a pile of rubble. He cocked the rifle and began blasting away at the shadowy mass that was rapidly gaining on them from the far side of the complex. The fence had been breeched, and the shuttle was their only way out now. His squad leader was firing non-stop, dropping bodies left and right, but still they advanced, swarming over him, beating him with their fists and clubs. Then, he disappeared in the swarm surrounding him, as if he were drowning._

_They ran toward the landing pad as other troopers in their squad blasted away at the oncoming flood of Ithorians, covering their hasty retreat from a landing several meters above. Rogue and 0600 reached the bottom of the stairs that led up to the flight deck. They were about to take the first step when another powerful explosion rocked the structure of the landing platform and ground beneath them, throwing them to the dirt. The troopers on the landing above were flung over the railing as a large, twisted mass of the durasteel structure folded in on itself and came crashing down around Rogue and 0600 . . . broken, bloodied bodies burying them. Something had shattered his leg armor and pierced his thigh . . . he could hardly breathe under this tangled pile of dead troopers . . . he suddenly felt a cold chill run up his spine and passed out, slipping into darkness._

_Suddenly, he was floating above, watching the battle unfold from high above his unconscious body. Thousands of Hammerheads came streaming across the base as he watched, washing around the pile of unmoving armored bodies he was beneath, like water around a rock . . . as they advanced on the command center beyond. Rogue's floating presence then felt 0600 shaking his body on the ground below . . . pulling him out of the pile of the dead. Lightning flashed brightly above as 0600 shook him, trying to rouse him, "Rogue, wake up!"_

"Rogue, wake up!" said 0600, shaking him more violently now. Sweaty eyelids flew open and he instinctively reached for his blaster. He was staring up at 0600, who was blocking the E-11 from his reach . . . the cables of the Jedi arena criss-crossing the interior of the dim starship cargo bay behind him, overhead. "It's OK, we're on Tatooine, remember? You were dreaming. Danz is in trouble, we've gotta go . . . now."

Rogue sat up and 0600 grabbed one hand, Ddraig grabbed the other and they pulled him to his feet. The others were hurrying past into the darkness following Nadon.

Somewhere up above the dark chamber she was sitting in, there was the sound of a monstrous impact, and the shattering of stone as small rocks rained down through the twisting, sloping crevasses into the cathedral chamber she now rested in. A wave of dust followed, spreading across the open room. A furry hand reached for the lluminator, which she dimmed slowly. Cautiously, she cocked her hooded head to one side, listening to the silence that followed the crash. She glanced with gleaming eyes down to the Gaffi sticks and pouches she had scavenged off the dead Tuskens from the ridge outside the cave as she chewed her small mouthful of desert scurrier.

Curiosity got the better of her and as she swallowed the cooked meat, she began to climb over the rocks, up the sloping stone grade into the darkness where the small rocks had spilled from. The passage was narrow here, but as she crawled, it eventually widened just enough for her to squeeze out into a larger cavity above. There was no light here at all.

She pulled out her illuminator and switched it on revealing the incredible size of the chamber she was now in. "Ohhhh" she whispered as she leaned her head back, holding her hood and straining to see the top, then she lowered her gaze and looked around. In the center of the room, wrapped up in a tangle of cable, lay what remained of a huge stone column, now split down its length. She reflexively jumped behind the corner of the giant stone as a shower of small stones rained down from the darkness of the bridge span above . . . something was moving up there.

"I am aware of the rebel snubships, Bast, but quite honestly they do not concern me in the least. I am only interested in acquiring a targeting lock on the fourth moon. We have almost cleared the curvature of the planet . . . once we do, the rebellion will cease to be of concern to anyone." Tarkin exhaled shortly through slightly flared nostrils as he turned back to the wall display. Bast closed his eyes, wishing he could convince the Grand Moff that there was indeed reason to be concerned. Even Lord Vader had taken the information under advisement and was now personally engaging the fighters in his modified TIE.

He swallowed hard and stepped up behind, and slightly beside Tarkin, almost whispering in his ear, that others might not hear what he had to say, "I've analyzed their attack, sir, and there is a danger. Should I have your ship standing by?" Tarkin's eyes widened slightly in amazement as he turned to face Bast once again, "Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances."

Bast bowed slightly, stepping back from his superior officer. Then he turned and left the observation deck as the Grand Moff and master statistician fumed at the idea that his incredible weapon, his Death Star, might possibly be in any danger from a small band of well-worn rebel fighters. Bast couldn't be concerned with whether or not Tarkin believed him now. He hurried away toward the hangar bay and the small supply ship he had waiting.

*

Red Leader pressed the earpiece tighter to his ear as a crackling communication came through from Yavin IV, "Red Leader, this is Base One. Keep half your group out of range for the next run."

All remaining pilots heard Red Leader acknowledge General Dodonna, "Copy, Base One. Luke, take Red Two and Three. Hold up here and wait for my signal to start your run." As he finished issuing his order, he and two other X-wing fighters broke away from the main group and dove toward the trench and their shot at the exhaust port.

As they rolled into the trench, Red Leader called out to his wingmen, "Keep your eyes open for those fighters." The reply from Red Ten came back almost immediately, "There's too much interference. Red Five, can you see them from where you are?"

Biggs Darklighter and Wedge Antilles flanked Luke in a tight formation as he looked up, then strained his neck to the right as he began to reply, "No sign of any . . . " Then he looked out to his left, "Wait, they're coming in point three five."

Red Ten replied as Red Leader prepared his computer to gain a lock on the target. "I see them." High above the Death Star, Luke, Wedge and Biggs watched as the attacking group skimmed through the trench across the surface of the station, and could see TIEs closing in on them.

The odd TIE in the center of the formation pulled ahead of the wingmen and fired on Red Twelve, vaporizing the ship in the flash of a fireball. The TIEs flew though the flames holding steady on the tail of Red Ten, who continued to cover Red Leader.

"Almost there . . . "Red Ten responded in a panic, "I can't hold them!" as Vader lined up his crosshairs on the rear of the rebel fighter. Green flashes of energy spit from the lead TIE, and Red Ten screamed momentarily into his comm as he and his ship vaporized into cosmic dust and were sprayed across the trench wall.

Red Leader yelled into his comm, "It's away!" and pulled back hard on his stick, climbing out of the trench, still pursued by the triangular formation of TIEs. Red Nine yelled back, "It's a hit?" A moment of silence passed and Red Leader responded, "Negative. Negative. It didn't go in . . . it just impacted on the surface." As he finished his comment, Vader fired on him, bolts of energy slashing through one of the four engines on his X-wing.

Luke spoke into his comm, "We're right above you, turn to point oh-five. We'll cover for you." Red Leader knew he was no longer able to stay ahead of the TIEs, and cautioned Luke's group away, "Stay there, I just lost my starboard engine. Get set up for your attack run." As he finished his sentence, Vader's sight found its target and the Dark Lord opened fire, energy beams ripping through the ship, crippling it. He screamed as his fighter raced in an unrecoverable dive toward the stark surface, and he was gone in a brilliant flash of flaming fuel scattered across the skin of the beast they fought.

Antilles and Darklighter watched the fireball from the impact of Red Leader's ship as they raced past when Luke's voice came through on their headsets, "Biggs, Wedge, let's close it up. We're going in. We're going in full throttle, that outta keep those fighters off our backs."

Wedge kicked up his throttle as he responded, "Right with you, boss." Biggs had a few concerns about the end of the trench and the space needed to pull up safely after dumping the torpedoes, "Luke, at that speed will you be able to pull out in time?"

Luke felt a warm energy coursing through his body as he fought to center himself the way Obi-Wan had instructed him, "It'll be just like Beggar's Canyon back home."

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 - Recovery**

The little Jawa backed away from the sound, moving to a safer position behind the large stone column. As she moved around it, she found herself stuck to fine strands of thread wound around the column. She pulled away and the threads pulled with her, sticking to her robes. Winding her hand around the webbed strands, she pulled away with a jerk, severing them.

Sketto webs were common on Tatooine, especially in the cool shade of the cliff caves. Cautiously, she scanned the dim cavern above for any sign of the four-winged, blood-sucking reptomammals. Tatooine legend told that a swarm of Skettos could suck a sleeping Dewback dry overnight. She knew it wouldn't take nearly that long to drain her little body. There didn't appear to be any flying about, and the sound she heard was coming from the bridge above. Several small stones fell from the bridge, as she heard movements and a scraping sound . . . like a tied animal struggling to free itself.

There was a muffled noise followed by a loud scrape as a shower of stones fell to the ground and a large sack of Sketto webbing, tangled up in many web filaments slipped off the edge of the bridge and fell toward the ground. The tangled webbing pulled hard against the powerful strands it was tangled in, and stopped its fall suspended several feet above the stone floor in a vertical attitude.

The webbing moved and stretched from inside, and the frightened Jawa moved further behind the large stone. It was then that a leg pushed through the top of the tangle of strands and thrust out into the dim light. Turning her head to the side to get a better look around the stone, she saw that the leg was encased in white armor. This was no Sketto.

Moving slowly out from behind the shattered column, she walked over to the undulating silky bundle. Reaching up to the webbing, she grabbed it and abruptly pulled it apart. Danz pushed his sweaty, upside-down face out the hole she had made into the air and drew in a deep breath, scaring the little Jawa, who instinctively jumped back and slipped on the loose stones, falling backward to the darkness of the floor.

A black-gloved hand slipped out under Danz' chin and pushed the webbing further away from his head, stretching the strong fibers up toward the ceiling of the enormous cavern until his chest armor was visible. He worked a shoulder through the opening and with his weight now over the opening, it pushed open wider as he squeezed through the narrow opening and fell to the hard rock below. He heard a muffled roar in his ears and although it was dark, he began to see an increasing white light as he slipped into unconsciousness.

He felt the little Jawa kneel beside him and begin wiping the blood from his eyes on her robe. Neither heard the muffled voices of the other members of the 104th as they descended toward him on cables from out of the darkness above.

"Artoo, that stabilizer's broken loose again. See if you can't lock it down!" The little astromech opened a port in his dome and extended an arm to begin repairs as Luke Skywalker's X-wing fighter raced through the trench of the Death Star. Biggs and Wedge followed behind in close formation to watch his back. He was running out of time . . . they all were. He adjusted his targeting computer to re-center it, compensating for the energy flux that would most definitely be surrounding the thermal exhaust port.

Several green energy blasts sizzled by, scorching the surface of the station, as the Imperial fighters fought to lock on. The center TIE with the bent wings adjusted its attitude slightly and fired again hitting Wedge's ship. The pilot from the crippled ship called out into his headset, "I'm hit. I can't stay with you." Skywalker replied, "Get clear Wedge, you can't do any more good back there." Wedge managed a response as he fought his controls to climb out of the trench, leaving only Biggs and Luke, "Sorry!"

Moments before it occurred, Vader sensed one of his pilots unconsciously reacting, "Let him go! Stay on the Leader." The dark Lord began to feel the ripples that Luke was making in the Force. He easily read the boys' emotions . . . he felt the concern and worry for his wingmate, Biggs. He sensed the deep friendship there, and he moved in closer to exploit that friendship to his advantage.

Biggs was getting concerned, as he was all alone covering Luke's back, "Hurry, Luke, they're coming in much faster this time. I can't hold them! Hurry up, Luke! Wait!" Vader locked on and expertly squeezed his controls, firing through the X-wing ahead of him as Biggs' ship burst into streaming bits of flaming debris. As he passed through the cloud of burning gases that was Biggs' ship, he could feel the anger rising in his son. "Good . . . good."

A control voice sounded over his comm, "Rebel Base thirty seconds and closing." He noted the wingmen beside him and announced, "I'm on the leader." He tried to get a lock on a non-critical portion of the X-wing ahead to cripple the fighter, but couldn't seem to hold onto one, as the boy slid left and right. He could feel the Force strengthening his son, and then the familiar tingle that accompanied Obi-Wan's presence. He spoke in to his comm, "The Force is strong with this one . . . " trailing off to continue his thought in his mind, "but Obi-Wan can no longer help him. Old Master, you have now doubled your failure. Soon my son will join me. After all your clever hiding and waiting, my son will still join me." With that, he fired on the ship, blowing a flaming hole through the dome of the astromech mounted behind the cockpit.

Luke whipped his head around, saw the smoking 'droid, and called out into his comm, "I've lost R2!" As he did so, Princess Leia, along with the rebel Commanders and Generals gathered in the map room on Yavin IV, heard the final warning, "The Death Star has cleared the planet. The Death Star has cleared the planet."

Topolev raced out under the starry night sky, past a startled Felth fumbling with his holonet pack, and down the hillside, sliding on the loose sand and stone. He shot glances left and right as he slid the last few meters down the hill, making his way toward the moonlit shuttle below.

The clanking of his footsteps echoed off the surrounding rocks of the canyon in the cool, still air as he bounded up the entry ramp. Tearing open a recessed gear locker in the bulkhead he pulled out a field medi-pak and headed back to the wreckage of the B'Omarr starship.

From the stone of the bridge, Falker was on his knees with his infrared scanners, peering into the darkness. He couldn't seem to get the angle needed to see straight down to the bridge below without risking going over the edge himself. Blade and 4120 were also sweeping the darkness for any possible sign, but were having similar difficulties.

0600 and Rogue continued to let out more cable as they lowered Ddraig further into the darkness below. Etz and I had our E-11s drawn and were on full alert against possible threats from any of the other unexplored portions of the caves as Ddraig's boots finally touched down on the bottom.

"Rebel Base in Range", came the announcement from one of the controllers behind him. With absolute calm, Tarkin casually replied, "You may fire when ready." The controllers' hands flew over their workstations, pressing buttons and changing the light in which their faces were bathed from green to red. Protocols were activated and being carried out at the other Superlaser unit locations to ready the station and its operators for a second blast of destructive power in less than a day.

A small supply ship lifted clear of its landing bay and slipped away from the station until it disappeared in the glimmer of a hyperspace acceleration. Three TIE fighters moved closer to the lead X-wing as it screamed through the equatorial trench and headed for the thermal exhaust port. The young rebel in the cockpit was focusing on the voice of his mentor, feeling only the very fringes of the Force, and yet it felt warm and comforting like the twin suns of Tatooine, or the love from a Father he had never known. It would have to be enough. He sensed the convergence of many cosmic timelines, lives and careers, all in a single moment . . . a moment he was born to be in.

Vader moved in a bit closer, trying to find the perfect, crippling shot that would allow his son to survive . . . and then his targeting scope locked on to a non-critical portion of a wing, "I have you now". He fired. As the green energy beams flashed through the void of space and tracked closer to their intended target, his wingman flashed into an expanding fireball. Luke looked around to see what happened, only to discover one of the TIE's had been destroyed.

Vader snapped his head up from his scope "What!" His wingman's helmeted head swung around trying to locate the source of the blast, only to see the Millennium Falcon diving down on a collision course from above, "YAHOOO!" screamed the Corellian pilot into his open-channel comm. The sight of the Corellian ship bearing down on them caused him to overcompensate on his control stick, clipping the wing of Vader's TIE, "Look out!", he screamed, as he glanced off Vader's ship and was obliterated along the canyon wall.

Vader was thrown clear of the trench, his ship rolling away toward deep space with a badly damaged wing and Ion engine. Alarms sounded in his cockpit as the damaged ship limped away from the battle. Turning Luke would have to come later.

"You're all clear kid, now let's blow this thing and go home!" Luke closed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his face, centering himself in the cockpit, feeling the Force, allowing it to guide him, to make him stronger. There was a loud rushing sound in his ears, like a powerful wind through trees. He opened his closed eyes, realizing that his torpedoes had been fired. Pulling back hard on the control stick, he and his X-wing climbed out of the trench just before it ended abruptly. The four remaining ships, two X-wings, a lone Y-wing and the Millennium Falcon broke away from the gravitational field of the station and streaked away as the proton torpedoes raced and tumbled down the shaft of the two-meter-wide exhaust port seeking out their target.

Tarkin stood watching Yavins' moon from the observation deck. Behind him, his Superlaser Fire Control Officer threw the last switch to fire on the Rebel base. There was a moment of silence where there should have been a blinding flash. The Fire Control Officer swiveled to check the reactor core monitor, which was flashing red and white as the deck beneath the command station began to rumble and shake. Tarkin turned and saw the monitor's warning signal flashing as everything was instantly ripped apart on a molecular level and the energy released by the meltdown in the central core erupted through the skin of the Death Star in a Supernova explosion that mimicked the intensity of a real star. Shock waves were flung out into space, rippling away from the intense blast, slamming across Vader's ship, rolling it over several times and shredding the one good remaining wing. He finally recovered and expertly maneuvered what remained of his TIE on a course for the relatively nearby Imperial base on Korriban. He carefully tucked the small vial of sand from Tatooine into the folds of his tunic, and tapped the hilt of Kenobi's lightsaber, clipped beside his own.

Ddraig had explored many such caverns during his Zero-G training on the cold, dead moons of Bogden. It was close to Carida and offered a perfect environment for mastering the bulky Zero-G suits. Unclipping from the cable, he pulled his bucket off and knelt beside Danz. He pulled the glove off his right hand with his teeth as he grabbed the luminary from his belt with the left. It cast a dim glow across his friend's bloody face.

Ddraig slipped two fingers under the edge of the ribbed black neckseal feeling for signs of life. His fingertips felt the slow but rhythmic pulsing . . . Danz was alive.

Slowly, he rolled Danz on to his back and brought the luminary closer to further inspect his friend. The right shoulder bell armor plating lay draped across the chest, lower than it should have been. Ddraig went to slip it back in place when he realized the arm beneath it was not where it belonged either. He moved the armor aside and could easily see that the arm had been pulled out of its socket.

He moved the luminary, scanning the legs, which seemed to be all right. It was only then that he noticed the severed cable just below Danz' holster. As he brought the luminary around for a better look, he noted that the cable had been sheared clean through and heat-sealed. The bottom edges of the holster just above it had been blown away. The bottom was all jagged and rough. He tried to pull the E-11 out, but it had been jammed down in tightly. He tugged harder, finally freeing it enough to slip it out slightly. The power was still on. It looked as if Danz had fired several shots through the holster to sever the cable as he fell.

"Ddraig, did you find him?" questioned Rogue through his helmet's comm. He grabbed the bucket and keyed the chin switch, "Yeah, I have him. He's a bit banged up, but he's alive." The little jawa shifted slightly behind the stone, trying to see, but also trying to keep herself concealed. "That's good to hear. We're sending Deckard down with a field medi-pack and a harness." Ddraig shook his head and keyed the comm again, "Negative. That won't work. His shoulder's dislocated, we're going to have to find another way to get him out of here."

On the bridge above, Rogue squeezed his eyes shut, trying to come up with an alternate idea. He turned to the rest of us, "Any ideas?" We all looked around at each other, then Etz spoke up, "We could do one of two things. We could rig a basket of some kind to the cable to lift him up in, or . . . we could go back to base and get the repulsor sled."

Rogue nodded. "OK. Let's see if we have anything we can use for a basket. Topolev, go back and check the shuttle for a cargo crate lid or something along those lines."

"I'm on it" Topolev responded, and turned to head off the bridge back through the Jedi arena and starship wreckage toward the shuttle. "Falker, you and 4120 check around out in the cargo bay of the B'Omarr ship. Look at those crates General Kenobi had back at the training area. And has anyone seen Felth?"

Ddraig looked back over to Danz, as the injured trooper began to regain consciousness and stir. "Hurry up whatever you do, we need something to get him out of here. We need to reposition his shoulder and get some Bacta into the cuts on his head."

I clipped in to the cable as Rogue replied, "Deckard's on his way down with the medi-pack and we're trying to figure out something to use for a basket to haul him up. If we can't find anything, we may need to bring the repulsor sled from back at base."

Ddraig shook his head. "Great. At least with the medi-pack we can make him comfortable and allow him to rest while we wait." I nodded at 0600 and Rogue as they let out some slack on the cable and I stepped back off the edge of the bridge into the blackness.

Several of the twisted, black solar panels along the framework of the wing were peeled back and ripped off in fiery streaks as the crippled TIE fighter entered the atmosphere high above the desolate surface of Korriban.

This remote planet was known primarily as the indigenous home to the original Sith people. They had been a simple, red-skinned race that were easily dazzled by the God-like Force powers of Dark Jedi castouts . . . Knights that had fled into exile from the Jedi Order during the Hundred Year Darkness.

The primitive Sith raised them up and held them in the highest regard, as rulers, or "Lords" of the Sith. Over the years, many Sith Lords were laid to rest here, in tribal burial grounds alongside the ancient Sith dead. As their reign came to a close, elaborate burial temples would be erected to honor them and serve as a final resting place. Interbreeding between the humans and the Sith ultimately resulted in a merging of the races and a spreading of the darkness.

Vader's badly damaged ship slipped through dark clouds and the rain that fell from them. He limped past jagged stony mountain spires thrust up from the surface by angry ancient volcanoes and the shifting and colliding of surface plates. He continued on into the hills, seeking out a small cavern just past the Valley of the Dark Lords, in the cliff face on the far side of the mountains. While there had been no official Imperial base established, he had insisted on a presence on Korriban. A presence that sought ancient Sith writings and artifacts. A presence that existed to plunder the temples in search of sources for even greater knowledge, understanding and power.

He felt the ship lurch as the tractor beam locked on and slowly pulled him into the cave. He would need time to plan his next move. Tarkin was dead, and Palpatine's toy was gone. The Emperor would surely want Luke dead and the Rebellion crushed for destroying the station. He had to work quickly. Locating, seducing and turning his son must now become his primary objective. He could not fail.

I had made it to the bottom of the dark shaft, and was now with Ddraig assessing Danz' injuries. I was no med 'droid, that's for certain, but his arm looked pretty painful. On the bridge overhead, Rogue switched his helmet's comm switch with his chin and walked into the darkness of the corridor leading back to the Jedi training area. Using the head's up display on his left lens, he selected TD1265 and initiated the communication.

Far across the sands of Tatooine, in our barracks building, 1265 slid one last crate onto the lift before acknowledging the inbound communication, "1265 here". Rogue responded, "1265, are you still at base?" An affirmative reply sounded in Rogue's earpiece. "Yes, sir. I finished going through the records from the Port Authority for the Millennium Falcon and the Outrider, and have been moving our supplies to the lower level since completion."

"Excellent" replied Rogue. "There's been an accident. I need you to gather up the repulsor sled, load it into the drop ship and bring it out to us. I'm transmitting the coordinates of our location to the base holonet terminal. You'll find the drop ship in spaceport bay 88". "I'll be on my way shortly, sir. 1265 out."

Danz was coming around as we finished cleaning the blood off his face. There were scrapes on his face and two fairly deep gashes on his forehead and scalp. Ddraig pulled two small pouches of Bacta from the medi-pack and threw one toward me as he opened his.

Danz was disoriented and asking something about where the Jawa was. We shot a glance at each other as we tried to keep him still, "I didn't see any Jawa . . . did you Ddraig?" He shook his head, "No, I didn't see any Jawa. Danz, your shoulder is dislocated, try to lie still. There don't appear to be any fractures, but we're going to have to put the arm back in the socket."

I worked some of the bacta into the two deeper cuts as Danz lay his head back down on the stone floor, sweat rolling off his forehead. He laughed slightly, "That oughta be fun."

*

1265 stepped off the lift, pushing the floating repulsor sled. He walked through the blast doors, out of the storage room and between the rows of bunks. Giving the sled a shove, he turned away as it floated across the floor and bumped to a stop against the frame of the opening that led to the command center.

Pulling off his helmet and tossing it on his bunk, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the short hair on the top of his head vigorously. The lifeless Radar eye and holoprojectors of the burned out astromech 'droid beside Deckard's bunk stared coldly back at him as he gathered some supplies and stocked his utility belt.

He withdrew two E-11 energy clips from his gear bag and slipped them into the ammo pouch mounted on his belt, shooting the 'droid one last look as he grabbed his bucket and rifle.

It was relatively cool on the streets as he slipped out the front door with the sled. He secured the base and walked off toward the spaceport.

*

"Whatever you do, don't let go" said Ddraig, looking at me. He repositioned his boot to get a better footing on Danz' chest as he gripped the right hand and forearm. I looked over to him as I firmly held Danz' right bicep in my left hand and had my other hand free, "I won't. You sure you know what you're doing?"

Danz turned toward him, "Yeah, you sure you know what you're doing?" Ddraig nodded, "I had to do this for one of my fellow Zero-G trainees. If I can do it in one of THOSE suits, I can do it in this gear. Just close your eyes and relax Danz, so you don't know when it's coming." He looked up at me and silently mouthed ON THREE as Danz shut his eyes tight.

ONE – TWO – THREE!

As he said three, he jerked the displaced right arm away from Danz' body, firmly pressing down with his foot on Danz' chest. I felt Danz tighten up, but the arm pulled out away from the socket and I slammed the tightened fist of my free hand into his upper arm, feeling it pop back into place. Danz howled and rolled over in pain as Ddraig and I let go of him.

Ddraig pulled the handheld comm off his belt and keyed it on, "He's back in one piece; angry and sore, but back in one piece". Rogue's voice crackled back through the tiny speaker, "That's good news. 1265 is on his way with the sled, we'll let you know when he gets here. Felth, where've you been? We were looking for . . ." and the comm went silent again.

Ddraig snapped off his comm and sat down on the stone floor, leaning back against the column. The little Jawa, who was now painfully close to Ddraig, quietly moved further behind the massive stone. I pulled a tranquilizer gun out of the medi-pack and unwrapped it. I placed the tip of the gun against the black bodysuit at Danz' hip and fired. The needle deployed, injected the medication and retracted. As Danz settled a bit, I pulled out the spent tranq cartridge and placed the gun back in the medi-pack.

I slid over and leaned my back against the broken column, trying to get comfortable. "So what's your story Deckard? Tell me about yourself, how you ended up here." I began relaying the story of my youth to him, about working in the shipyards, but my mind was elsewhere.

The old man we had narrowly missed apprehending in Mos Eisley had been a Jedi, of that I was certain. What was a farmboy doing with a Jedi Knight on Tatooine? I had hunted a few Jedi early in my career. When those that survived the initial wave of the Great Purge had fled, running away into hiding, it took us years to flush them out and exterminate them.

Vader had even trained several small units of the 501st to carry lightsabers for engaging the Jedi refugees. Mine had been put away for a very long time, and I was under the impression that all the Jedi had been killed . . . that our own Lord Vader was the last remnant of that ancient Order.

If General Obi-Wan Kenobi had lived on Tatooine for the past 20 years, he had to have lived somewhere and possibly left behind clues as to where he had gone. I would make it my business to find General Kenobi's home, and I would be questioning Nadon about it first.

*

There were intricate, detailed carvings of the sublime Dunes and the suns on the walls, even all the way down here. Tiny stone Banthas littered the hand-shaped landscape in small herds. The now-shattered column had destroyed a shallow stone pool that appeared to have once been filled with a combustible liquid and ignited to give off light in this huge space during the dark hours of night.

In both directions, the room gently curved around the center stone hub. I had walked far enough from Ddraig that I could barely see the luminary and had seen nothing but another pool and gentle curving of the massive stone wall.

I retraced my steps, drawing closer to our dangling cables, hanging from up above. Ddraig looked up as I walked past, "He's out for awhile, mind if I join you?" I shook my head and reached out a gloved hand to help him to his feet. He drew his blaster and switched it on as we walked off in the opposite direction from where I had just been exploring. He looked back once at Danz, then hurried to catch up with me.

From around the edge of the column, amber eyes watched as we walked off. Quietly, she turned and walked over to Danz and reached down to touch his forehead. He stirred, eyes opening slightly, staring up at the little Jawa, "You're the one from outside . . ."

He blinked and she was gone, scurrying over to the small crack through which she had entered. She took one look back over at Danz, one glance in the direction we had walked and dove headfirst into the tiny, dark opening. Danz swept his drugged eyes back and forth once more, looking for her before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

"I know we met you on Denon Station, but where were you before there?" I asked as we walked.

"I'm originally from a small industrial town on Corellia where my father runs a profitable droid and weapons production facility. I began my Imperial service by joining the Academy shortly after my older brother, Gwreng. I excelled in my classes and was assigned to TIE Interceptor Patrols in the Corellian System shortly after graduation.

I was then transferred to piloting an Assault Gunboat. I performed well, but didn't feel it suited me. Working with the troopers led me to put in a request for transfer and I was reassigned to basic training for infantry combat. I did well in extreme conditions training and this is where I decided to focus my attentions. Artic warfare, Desert Warfare, and Zero-G Combat Training made me very versatile and allowed me to choose my next assignment."

My eyes caught something coming up in the wall ahead as he talked and we continued ahead into the darkness.

"My last assignment was captain of a small squad on Dantooine where I was assigned to Desert Warfare, and Mounted Infantry training. I continued that training for the past two years."

"So how'd you end up here?" I asked.

"I was just recently called back to Coruscant for redesignation and classification along with a battery of Loyalty tests, which I passed.

It seems the Empire discovered that my older brother had not only left their ranks some time ago, but had recently become a high ranking officer in the Rebel Alliance. The next thing I knew, I was given orders to report to my transport, and that's when I met you."

"Sounds like a busy life so far. Looks like Tatooine has slowed things down a notch for you. You sure you know where your loyalties lie?" I asked.

"Yeah" he replied, "I'm sure."

Nodding thoughtfully, I gestured with my left hand, "I spotted an archway up there while you were talking . . . let's check it out." We continued on leaving Danz further and further behind.

* * *

In the darkness of the cave, several troops stood at attention on the gantry alongside the TIE fighter as Lord Vader inspected the damage. One engine destroyed, one wing sheared nearly off, and the rear edge of this wing was crumpled from the collision with his wingman.

Disgusted, he turned to the closest trooper, "Repair that ship. Use whatever resources necessary. I want it ready as soon as possible. Until that time, I will be accompanying the search team in the temples."

"Yes sir" snapped the trooper sharply in response as the newest Dark Lord of the Sith walked away down the gridded planking. The trooper then hurried off to begin locating parts and mechanics, leaving one guard behind.

Across the cave, in a shadowy recess, a tiny camera snapped an infrared image.

The person behind the camera then silently slipped from his hiding place and quickly made his way out of the caverns' mouth and into the undergrowth of the hillside.

* * *

The Sentinel skimmed low across the desert floor, throwing a cloud of sand up in its wake. 1265 watched the small display of instruments before him as he locked on to the signal beacon from Tyrell's shuttle. He watched out the front visor . . . the light brown sand appeared almost white now in the moonglow. The rise and fall of the sparkling dunes beneath the ship as it passed was rhythmic in its pattern. The shuttle's flashing beacon signal blip disappeared into his own signal on the instrument panel, indicating that he was drawing near to his destination. Through the cockpit window, he could see that it was almost morning; the pre-dawn glow of the suns emanating from below the horizon.

Falker slid down the hillside to the floor of the canyon outside and stood beside Blade as 1265 banked up and over the rim of the canyon. The wings folded upward and he lowered the drop ship to rest beside the shuttle. Rogue stepped out of the cave mouth into the moonlight as 1265 descended the ramp pushing the repulsor sled. He watched as Blade and Falker helped 1265 push it up the hill toward where he was standing, "Come on . . . let's get it inside so we can get Danz out of here."

I adjusted a small dial in the handle governing the repulsor and the sled lowered to the ground. Danz sat up in the dim light of the luminary and we slid him on, sitting upright. I returned the dial to its original position and the sled lifted and hovered 2 feet off the ground. "Take him on up, I'll clip in to one of the cables and meet you up there."

"See you topside", said Ddraig as he took the control on the handle and stepped onto the corner of the sled. I clipped in as they lifted into the darkness above and made it to the level of the first bridge, then the second, climbing slowly higher toward the others who waited above. I flipped the chin switch inside my helmet "All set here, bring me up."

Etz, 0600 and Nadon pulled on my cable lifting me off my feet.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 – Moral Dilemma**

The ground crew, freedom fighters, pilots, officials, leadership and his new friends had all cleared out of the Ceremonial hall, and Luke Skywalker sat alone on the stone steps, looking down at the hero's medal around his neck. His life had accelerated beyond his wildest imaginings and thrust him squarely into the center of the conflict with the Empire. Like it or not, he was now part of the Alliance and prominently displayed on the Empire's hit list.

His thoughts dissolved into images of his life back on Tatooine . . . a life that was now lost forever, scattered on the winds like the smoke from his ruined home. Since the death of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, he had been caught up in the unfolding of events beyond his control. He had been running on adrenaline and the desire to help the beautiful princess avoid execution. With all that now behind him, he realized that while he had learned a bit from Ben in the short time they had traveled together, it would not be nearly enough to become a Jedi Knight and face Vader.

The whirring of R2's motors brought him back into the moment as the little droid rolled to a stop behind him. Threepio ambled in behind him, "R2-D2, can't you see Master Luke wants to be alone?" The little astromech threw together a string of sounds in a retaliatory comment, as Threepio reacted, obviously offended, "You watch yourself or I'll have maintenance remove your filthy little audio processors! Why I must endure the the displeasure of your company is beyond me."

"It's alright Threepio . . . I was just thinking about Ben."

"Oh . . . as you wish, Master Luke." R2 rattled off a small sentence of burps and whistles, and the protocol droid translated, "R2 says you have known Master Kenobi for some time. We are both very sorry for your loss, sir."

Luke looked off down the stone aisle as he spoke, "I've known OF him for a long time. My uncle and the other farmers all thought he was some kind of magician or wizard. He didn't come out much, and he traveled the Jundland Wastes on foot, no one else did that. I saw him a few times headed toward Mos Eisley, but never in Anchorhead.

About 5 seasons . . . umm . . . 5 standard years ago, my friend Windy and I rode out into the wastes on a Dewback. We were fed up and just wanted to get away for awhile and blow off some steam. The Dewback we were riding got spooked by the cry of a Krayt Dragon echoing toward us from the distant hills. It threw us off in one of the canyons and ran away. We wandered around for the rest of the afternoon trying to find our way out, but we were hopelessly lost and the suns were almost down.

We sat down, trying to figure out the best place to spend the night, when a voice spoke to us from the rocks above and called MY name . . . it was Ben Kenobi. He guided Windy and me back to our farm and made sure we were safe. Uncle Owen was furious, but not with Windy and me, with Ben! He ordered Ben off our farm and told him not to come back. The old wizard hesitated, eyes locked with Uncle Owen. Then he glanced over to me and opened his mouth momentarily as if he wanted to say something, but he cut his eyes back to Uncle Owen briefly and walked off into the night.

I wonder if he was trying to tell me about my father even then? I also wonder why Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru wouldn't want me to have known. They had to know how important it was to me to know him . . . anything about him."

As he paused, an officer stepped into the chamber at the other end of the long aisle, "Commander Skywalker, General Dodonna needs to see you right away."

Luke looked up, "I'll be right there." He stood up and pulled the medal from around his neck and handed it to Threepio, "put this with my things, I'll be back soon." He turned and walked down the steps, polished boots clacking slightly on the stone floor as he walked away down the aisle and disappeared through the giant doors.

"Come on R2, let's go" said the gold protocol droid to his squat counterpart.

"Ahh, Commander Skywalker . . ." General Dodonna opened a file on his datapad and set it on the large table as the Luke neared the table. The doors closed behind him and they were alone. "Intelligence reports are indicating that Darth Vader's ship did not rejoin the Imperial Fleet following the destruction of the Death Star.

It is assumed his ship was damaged in Captain Solo's unorthodox assault and that he has made his way to a nearby system. I want patrol missions launched to find him before he can rejoin the Emperor. If we can remove him from power, that's one less we need to contend with."

Luke nodded "Vader is very dangerous. We'll find him, General."

"We also need to begin preparing for an evacuation of this base. The Death Star is gone, but the Empire will be here in force soon to deal with us in a ground assault. We have several locations being scouted as we speak." He put a hand on Luke's shoulder, "I know the loss of General Kenobi has been hard on you, son. I am dealing with it myself, now for a second time. I thought he was dead once, long ago . . . now he really is. I have some information in my chambers on a datacard from one of our spies embedded within the Empire . . . about a hidden Jedi training facility that Kenobi pieced together during his years of seclusion. I'll make you a copy, it may prove helpful to you in your journey to become a Jedi."

"Thank you, sir. I would be very interested to see that."

Behind the polarized lenses of my armored helmet, my eyes burned and watered from the long day's activities and the long night that had followed with no sleep. It had been hours since Rogue submitted his report to Vader with no response yet. That could either be a good sign, or a bad one . . . I couldn't decide which I thought it might be. Either Vader had located the passengers from the _**Millennium Falcon **_onboard the Death Star, or perhaps the ship was a decoy, and he was involved in an intensive hunt for them. If the latter were true, he would be contacting us sooner or later for any additional information we had uncovered.

Rogue would have plenty to tell him about the discovery of the training arena. He and 4120 had secured Danz in his bunk to allow his shoulder a day to recuperate. He had fought them, saying he was fine, but in the end gave in and accepted the downtime.

Suddenly, I came back into the moment. I leaned against a stone wall and looked across the courtyard of the open marketplace . . . people were gathering and heading this way. The moisture farmers had obviously gotten the word about our meeting. I watched as they walked closer. They were a hard and tattered-looking group, worn down by season after season working in the beating suns and the stinging, blowing sand. They gathered in a small group and talked amongst themselves as still more began to file in.

Rogue paced slowly a few yards away from me, as the farmers filled in and moved a bit closer. All eyes were on him, but he was waiting, watching the corridors . . . watching those who were still filing in. These were the people we were here to serve. Their lives were difficult enough without fearing Tusken attacks as well.

I tried again to connect to the holonet through my helmet with no luck. It had been out all night. I walked out of the courtyard and over to Blade as Rogue and 4120 began speaking with the crowd. "Hey Blade, you been able to connect to the 'net?"

He shook his head, "Nope. I've been trying since last night. When we get back to base I'm going to check another channel, maybe the signal booster through the Death Star is down."

I nodded, "Good idea. I don't know what was in those stolen plans, but something big is going down. Those stolen plans got Vader so riled up that he came all the way out here in person to capture the princess himself, not to mention that he and Tarkin used the Superlaser to Destroy Alderaan. ALDERAAN! That's not some Outer Rim dustbowl, that's a Sovereign planet in the core . . . a high-profile strike."

Blade nodded, "I know, now with the 'net down, I wonder if a relay station was destroyed or something?"

"I don't know" I responded. We turned our attention back to the conversation being had with the Farmers . . .

"I for one am glad you're here . . . if you'll do what you say you're going to do. I put a 'droid out working on one of my 'vaporators last week and came back to pick him up once the job was done, only to find a near-empty shell of a 'droid surrounded by little footprints in the sand. Those Jawas must have picked it clean right before I came back!"

Another farmer stepped forward, clearing his throat, "Yeah! I've had the same problem with those blasted Jawas scavenging parts, and the Raiders are beginning to rig the machinery with booby-traps. I lost two men last month. One of my condensers exploded when they opened the panel to work on it."

Another spoke up beside him, "They've been getting bolder in their attacks, all right, raiding the supply sheds and hydroponic gardens not 20 meters from my home!"

They all began to speak at once, "Makes you wonder how much the Hutts are behind this! It would be just like them to instigate this kind of warfare using the local talent. Their turf wars and the resulting impact on pricing have all but driven many of us out of business."

A short and bent, leather-faced man pushed through the crowd to the front, "They took my son! Three seasons ago my son was taken while he worked on some units on the edge of the Dune Sea. We mounted a search party, but he was never found. I don't know if he's alive or dead! Please help us!"

"That's why we're here" said 4120. "We'll do everything we can to drive the Tuskens and Jawas back in line. I think the Hutts have been part of an ongoing investigation for some time now, from what we've uncovered so far. We'll continue monitoring them and try to find a balance that works for everyone."

Rogue stepped up beside 4120, "It won't happen overnight. We're new here and it will take some time for them to respect the authority that we bring to the fight, but they will respect it or face the consequences."

A rush of murmurs and whispers passed through the crowd.

Chirps, croaks, whistles and cries came from the thick forests, as high atop the stone temple of the Massassi, Luke scanned the horizon with macrobinoculars, watching for signs of the first patrol that was currently out trying to locate Vader. There had been no contact for some time. They were now overdue for return and there was still no sign of them. He had a bad feeling about this. The device's small screen winked off in a flash-blip as he lowered them from his face to scan the skies above the outstretched tree canopy with squinting eyes. His chest heaved a bit as he breathed . . . he was a farmboy from Tatooine and was still adjusting to all the moisture and high humidity levels in the air on Yavin IV.

Two heavy transports under escort rose from the cover of the trees and slipped into the clear sky. He watched them until he could no longer distinguish them from the sky. The preliminary equipment evacuation was well underway now. They had enough time for several more patrols, but if the first one didn't return, the Empire might already be closer than they had expected. He turned and descended the stairs into the temple, heading for the ground level and the hangar bay.

General Dodonna slipped the duplicate datacard out of the replicator in the command center and quickly into his inside jacket pocket. The original card then ejected. He took it and went to drop it into his outer breast pocket. Instead of falling safely inside, the small card missed the pocket and fell to the floor as the General walked away and out the door into the hallway. The small card labeled "Base One" was now face down on the ground. It slipped into the small crack between the metal floor grates as a technician walked by.

It was in the hallway to the main hangar that Dodonna ran into Luke. "Here's that copy I promised you" he said, holding out the datacard. Luke took the small card, hoping it would help guide him to a starting place, give him some direction back to what he needed from Ben . . . from Obi-Wan, "Thank you, General." Dodonna turned to walk away, then turned back, stopping Luke, "Commander, First Patrol is gone. We just received word from a reliable source that a sizeable debris field has been located along the path of their search trajectory." Luke's eyes widened, "What? What happened? Did they run into Imperial fighters, or Destroyers?" "We don't know yet son. I'm sorry, I know some of them were your friends." He turned and somberly walked away down the corridor.

Luke solemnly turned and walked the opposite direction into the hangar. Far across, on the other side, crews were packing containers for the transports, but this side was quiet. He stepped out into the aisle between the rows of X-wing fighters, lined up with canopies open, hardly able to believe that he was here at all, much less a Commander in the Alliance!

He quietly walked between the still, silent craft . . . all were comfortably broken in and showed signs of wear, but had been tuned to peak efficiency by the Rebel ground crew. There were precious few ships left after the assault on the Death Star, and this lonely, silent row represented them all. He moved past the front of his ship, designated Red-5, and climbed the yellow durasteel ladder to the cockpit. He stepped into the opening and settled into the seat, breathing in the presence and smell of the ship itself. The cockpit and controls had been broken in during numerous dogfights and battles, long recon missions and escort service to larger ships under the control of others, but he had flown in her only once. He came back into the moment, clearing away the thoughts of Biggs' ship vaporizing at the hands of Vader.

He leaned forward a bit and inserted the small datacard Dodonna had given him. Help was desperately needed if he was ever going to find a way to grow as a Jedi and hopefully stop Vader, or die trying. He stared intently at the screen as Davin Felth's secret holonet report began to display across the screen.

It was late afternoon when Danz finally opened his eyes and sat up in his bunk. I was in my flight suit sitting across the room on my bunk with my arms buried up to my elbows down inside the burned out astromech. The radar eye on its blue and silver dome looked up blankly from its place on the floor grates beside me as I worked.

Ddraig had his hands inside the rear hatch to support power cells I was unscrewing down in the cramped cavity. Danz looked toward the front command office, then back to us, "Did you guys see the Jawa in the cave? The one that helped me out of the webbing and wiped my face?" I looked at Ddraig, he looked at me as we slid the power cells out of their mounting sleeves and out the open top of the body for examination. I could smell the stale, burnt damage as I pulled them out into the light. Just as I had thought . . . they were completely fried. It looked like they had taken some massive power surge while recharging. "I didn't see any Jawa, Did you?" I said, looking over to Ddraig. "No, I didn't see any Jawa in there. I think we were alone in there." Danz looked troubled and rubbed his head as we continued our work.

A closer inspection of the power cells showed that the wiring harness terminals were all blackened. I glanced back inside the 'droid . . . the insulated wiring harness that attached to them had been scorched as well, and was the one hanging out of one of the side panels. There were several logic boards adjacent to the wiring harness that were damaged as well, but it appeared that the memory chips, located just beyond a fuse panel, had been spared.

"Good luck finding those parts here" said Ddraig, wiping his hands on a towel, "this place has a lot for starships, but I don't know about astromechs." I reached back inside the body and unscrewed the fuse panel, removing it and the damaged wiring harness, "Yeah, you're probably right, but someone might have something I could modify and use. I'll head back out to the burned out Sandcrawler and see if there's anything useful there. The Jawas have probably already stripped her down, but I'll check it out. If I can't find anything there, or in the local shops in Anchorhead or here in Mos Eisley, I may have to take a few days leave and make a trip offworld for some parts." I knelt down beside my bunk and pulled out my gearbag, "I'm going to put a probe on this thing and make sure these are all I need."

Etz walked in pulling off his helmet, and dropping it on his bunk, began to slip off his armor as we continued to work on the little astromech. He looked over at Danz, who had dozed off again as he pulled off his forearm gauntlets. The collection of problematic parts was growing, as the diagnostic systems probe completed its extensive sweep of the 'droids internal workings. I watched the pulsing patterns on the probe's display screen as it worked. Ddraig walked back in with 2 containers of water as Etz pulled off the last of the armor plates and zipped up his flight suit.

Several more wiring harnesses, a motor controller and the audio processor had already been pulled out and laid beside the batteries and fuse block. The pulsing stopped and a tone finally indicated that the sweep was now complete. At least now I knew what I needed to get the little guy going again. Etz lay back on his bunk and closed his eyes as I switched off the probe and disconnected the leads down inside the main body cavity.

"Here" said Ddraig, handing me the water, "So is this everything you need?" I looked over at the pile as I wound up the probe wires, "As far as I know. Thanks." And I took the water from him. "I hope we can find the parts to get this guy going again. Then he can tell us what happened and how long he's been sitting dormant down there."

Etz sat up on his bunk, opening his eyes wide, "In all the confusion, I totally forgot!" and he jumped up and ran into the rear storage room. I looked over at Ddraig as I swallowed my sip of water, "What's up with him?" He stared back at me, shrugging his shoulders, eyes wide, finishing his drink.

We could hear the lift moving in the back room as I dropped the probe to my bunk and we walked into the back. Etz had lowered himself down and disappeared into the room beyond. I pulled the lever down, calling the lift platform back. It slowly rose back to ground level as we heard Etz rummaging through the racks below. I threw the handle back down and we stepped onto the lift.

When we walked through the door, Etz was on his knees between two of the racks, ripping things off the bottom shelf and tossing them into the floor. We moved closer, walking down the aisle toward him as he pulled out a large, dusty tarp, throwing it aside. Then he grabbed what was hidden under it, straining to slide it out into the light.

There was a loud metal-on-metal scraping noise as he pulled the corner of a large metallic slab off the shelf. As he shoved it into the light and moved aside, we could clearly see now that it was a block of silvery metal with small dials and knobs set into the edges. It was a Carbonite prisoner hibernation slab . . . a slab with the raised features of someone sealed inside . . . someone wearing Commando Armor.

Ddraig glanced over at me, and although I could see him in my peripheral vision, I couldn't take my eyes off the carbonite slab on the floor with the commando staring blankly up out of the metal. Etz looked up at us, "When I came in to get the transport, I needed a couple of new power cells. I came over here to the racks to look for some, and when I found them, the power cable was caught on this hand thrust up out of the metal" he said, pointing to one of the hands protruding up from the smooth surface. "With everything that was going on, I totally forgot about it until now."

I heard the lift activate just outside the room as the roof doors on the landing bay slid open and the troop transport pushed through the shield, and descended, settling onto its repulsor field just above the stone floor. Felth, Falker and Blade hopped off the tailboard. Topolev slipped out of the cockpit, walked out through the open rear and jumped down off the tailboard, following them and pulling off his helmet.

Rogue, Danz, 4120, 0600 and 1265 walked through the door from the lift as the others filed in from the bay. Danz and Rogue were talking, "I don't know what happened, he just jumped up and raced out." Rogue turned toward us as they all walked over toward the racks where we were, "What's going on? Danz said Etz jumped up like somebody shocked him with a Dewback prod." I looked over to Etz, then to Ddraig and stepped aside, so that all could see past me to Etz and his discovery.

"What the . . ." was all Rogue could manage as they all stepped closer. Felth and Topolev circled around the backside of the rack and came up the aisle from the back wall for a closer look. 0600 pushed past 1265 and knelt down beside the slab, examining the settings on the side panels. "There's no freezing date coded here." He turned and looked back at Rogue, "but I would bet he's been in this thing for a very long time."

Topolev knelt down as well, tapping a finger on the surface, "Is he still alive in there?"

0600 raised his eyebrows as he responded, "He should be . . . but carbon freezing was adapted from its initial industrial origins and pulled into service as a means of secure prisoner transfer. Freeze the prisoner and send them either to be judged, or to the prison facility where they were then released to serve out their sentence." Etz was looking over the control panels as 0600 spoke, "Hey, there's a dial here for a built in repulsor. Stand back a little." Everyone moved back as he rotated the dial. The slab rose from the floor and hovered a few inches in the air. He rotated the dial more until the carbonite was hovering at about waist height.

Rogue stepped closer, a hand resting on the edge of the metal block, "With no formal record apparent, there's no way for us to know who put him here, or why. We're going to need to discuss what to do with him. Bring him upstairs."

"We've been 'round and 'round about this, and we're no closer to an answer. It comes down to one point. Do we have the right to release this trooper?" Rogue looked around the room, into the eyes of each man standing around the floating carbonite block. The room was silent . . . each of us looking to the others. Etz had his hands on the edge of the block looking down at the frozen face staring up at him . . . feeling responsible for the trooper's fate.

Felth shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 0600 began a reply as he looked around the room, "True, we don't know what he did, or why he's in there, but carbon freezing was designed for short-term use. It was never intended to be used for a long-term incarceration tool. I think we owe it to this trooper, whoever he is, to release him and find out for ourselves what his story is and then deal with him." He glanced back to Rogue, "Have you forgotten the time we served on Kessel for something we didn't do?"

Rogue lowered his eyes and exhaled. Shaking his head slightly he replied in a low tone, "No. I haven't. And if I were him I would probably want to be released too. I just question whether or not we have the authority to do so." Topolev stood up from his place on his bunk, "The way I see it . . . it doesn't appear that anyone's missing him. He's been down there for who knows how long. This base station was closed up for years! No one in the Empire would ever know if we let him out or not." There were nods of agreement around the room, and a few raised eyebrows. "Hell, he might not even be alive once we did. We might be releasing a corpse. In either event, he deserves to be released. He's one of us. If he did something awful, it was a long time ago, and we can deal with that when it comes to light."

Falker stepped back from the circle and walked around toward Rogue, "I understand what you're saying, and believe me, I want to do what's right here too" looking at Rogue and then shooting a glance to Topolev, " I think we all do." Rogue nodded as he continued speaking, "Based on his armor, this trooper was most likely encased sometime during the Clone Wars era, for reasons unknown. IF he survived the freezing and encasement, not only will he be dealing with his hibernation sickness, he'll be dealing with catching up on the events of almost twenty years."

Falker glanced around the room as he continued, "And don't think of hibernation sickness as a small side effect, it's nothing to be taken lightly. His organs will be quick-thawed from a deep freeze, which is incredibly painful. Then, he'll experience any number of additional side effects during his recovery period such as blindness, deafness, muscle atrophy, hypersensitivity. His unusually long encasement may result in dementia or even insanity." The room was silent.

He continued, "Let's sleep on it, and talk about it more in the morning. Deckard, why don't you take Etz and Danz on the last sweep patrol of the spaceport, and we'll call it a night. Things may be a little clearer in the morning. While you're doing that, Topolev, you and Felth and I should go down to the cache with the others and see what else might turn up regarding this guy. If there are arrest records, there may be a file on him."

Rogue nodded, "Good plan, Falker. There are a lot of things down on those racks that we haven't been through yet. We should know a little more about what's down there."

"I'll help out with the spaceport sweeps. I could use some air" said Blade, pulling on his bucket. "I think I'll join you guys too" said Ddraig.

Etz slid the carbonite block into the corner and grabbed his bucket from me. I thumbed the power switch on my E-11 and pulled my bucket on as well, "Let's go guys." The five of us that were on patrol duty filed through the door into the front office and spilled out into the darkened streets as the others headed down into the cache.

The streets were all but deserted. Etz and Falker had gone in one direction toward the East end of town to circle back through the spaceport to the barracks, while Danz, Ddraig and I had gone toward the West side of the spaceport, to also end up at headquarters. We were finished with our inspection of the bays, and aside from removing several Jawas from number 34, had seen nothing that seemed out of place. A number of ships were being loaded by night crews, preparing for early-morning departures, but most were sealed up and deserted for the night. Ddraig broke the silence as we walked out the main corridor toward the streets, "Danz, how's the shoulder?" I looked over to Danz as he looked to Ddraig, and then me, bending his arm and rolling his shoulder, "It's much better now, still not quite 100%, but close." I looked over at Ddraig, then stopped and pulled off my helmet, looking at Danz, "Was one of those little guys in bay 34 your Jawa?"

The others pulled their helmets off as well. Ddraig smiled as he also asked, "Yeah, where's your Jawa?" Danz glared at us "There WAS a Jawa down in the cave with me . . . with us! It ripped open the Sketto webbing and allowed me to pull myself free. After that I was kinda' coming and going in and out of consciousness, but I know I remember it wiping my face. Then, it disappeared while you guys worked on me and then came back once more before we were hauled up. Are you sure you didn't see it?"

We looked at each other and Ddraig answered, "No, we didn't see any Jawa. You sure you didn't bang your head harder than we thought?"

"I know what I saw" he said as he pulled his bucket back on and stepped out into the moonlit street. Ddraig and I pulled our helmets on and followed him, walking along in silence toward HQ.

It was late, and although the spaceport never closed, most of the businesses we were passing around it did. Chalmun's Mos Eisley Cantina was no exception. As we drew near, the last of the regulars of the popular bar were being herded into the street as Wuher closed the door behind them. He activated the security sensors and returned inside to clean up after the long day. The intoxicated patrons staggered away into the cool shadows to sleep until it re-opened again in the morning.

As the other patrol approached from down the street, we could hear them discussing the Commando. Etz was answering back, ". . . understand all that but he needs to be released." We walked over to them and Danz spoke up, "It won't happen tonight. Let's get some sleep and see what everyone thinks in the morning. He's been down there a long time. One more night won't make any difference." Everyone agreed and we walked off toward the barracks, our armor glinting in the moonlight until we disappeared into the dark shadows of the alley.

As we disappeared from sight, the Kubaz that had been watching and listening, slipped back into the shadows across the street.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 – Crash and Burn**

Nearly a week had gone by since Etz' revelation of the Carbonite-contained Commando in the cache, and we were still stuck, divided about what to do with him. Rogue had conceded the point that no one would know or care if he were removed from the block, unless he decided to tell someone once he was out. We were now in a much darker place where the trooper was concerned. It was no longer a question of authority to remove him . . . we now existed outside the Legion, outside the Empire. The question had now become what would the repercussions of doing so be? What had he done to warrant being frozen in the first place? What would he think of being released? Would he be able to think at all? Was he alive? We had the spare gear to assemble a set of armor and assimilate him into our group if necessary, but then he had his own armor that he may prefer to keep. These questions kept circling around and around, and we found ourselves no closer to resolution.

The work on the 'droid was coming along nicely, although the astromech still needed a fair number of parts to even approach being functional. Ddraig and I had located some of the supplies in the small shops near the spaceport, and although they were not a perfect match, we were able to make some minor modifications to suit our needs.

We had all been extremely busy. In addition to the daily city beat and the patrols around the spaceport, Rogue and 4120 were working on a roster and schedule for extended patrols further out into the outlying areas, closer to the moisture farmers and their problems. 0600 and I had made a sweep of the perimeter of the farms and homesteads to gauge the area and time needed to properly patrol it.

In the course of our travels, we noted that the Jawas seem to have been spooked by the destruction of one of their Sandcrawlers and had been laying low, leaving the moisture gathering equipment alone and not even bothering to return to salvage from their own ruins yet. I had remembered kicking aside the dome of a damaged R5 unit in the 'crawler when the skirmish had occurred, so I poked through a bit of the wreckage in the cargo bay until I found what was left of the 'droid body and brought it back to cannibalize parts.

Falker and Etz had just left, heading over to speak with Wuher, or someone else in the Cantina to find a local willing to act as a scout for locating and dealing with the Tuskens. So far, even Garindan had turned up no one for us. It was beginning to seem that the best way to deal with the Tuskens was with a fully charged blaster.

I sat on my bunk, quietly continuing to clean the contacts on one of the new battery harnesses with a rag as Felth walked through the room. He was absorbed with what was on the screen of his holonet pack and didn't see me. He silently scrolled through his messages and then appeared shaken when he looked up and realized I was in the room.

"What's up Felth?" I said, as I leaned over the 'droid body and reached inside, snapping the harness terminal's connector pack into the main power board. He stiffened somewhat and then responded, "Nothing. The message was garbled. I haven't gotten a decent transmission on this thing since the night we had to get Danz out of that downed B'Omarr starship."

"Yeah, I haven't seen any message showing credits transferred to my account, and payday was yesterday, according to local time. Granted, we don't make much, but I need every little bit I can get, especially for these parts" and I gestured toward the 'droid.

"Right" replied Felth absently, and walked away, slipping the holonet pack back into its belt pouch.

Topolev and 1265 had been searching through the datacard records down in the cache to see if there was any reference to our Commando. So far, they had found none. I found myself wondering just why there had been a Commando on Tatooine in the first place. I mean, Jawas and Tuskens were one thing, but in those days, there were bigger otay to fry with the tracking of Jedi Knights and the wrap up efforts of the war in the smaller systems. If he had been stationed here prior to the end of the war, why?

I was lost in thought and the memory of the historic images of the Clone Wars we had all seen on Carida when something going on in the command center brought me back to reality. I stood up and walked through the door to the front room as Falker and Etz, both with buckets off, were talking over each other to Rogue, 4120 and Felth. Etz conceded and Falker spoke again, "The DS-1 station has been destroyed." 4120 whipped his head around to Rogue, "The Death Star?"

My jaw dropped, as Rogue nodded incredulously, "Who told you this? How?"

"The whole Cantina is buzzing about it" said Etz "Some spacer just made port last night and said that's why the holonet has been offline, because the rebel forces have destroyed the station. Reports are also saying that Senator Organa is alive, and was the supplier of the data responsible for the destruction."

4120 broke in "What about Vader?" Falker shook his head, "He hasn't been accounted for yet. This all happened the night we were rescuing Danz. We're in such a vacuum out here that we didn't know about this for A WEEK!"

4120 shook his head, "The data they're talking about is probably the same information that was taken from here by the Jedi and the boy. Pray that Lord Vader is dead, or this could come back on all of us."

There was a moment of heart-stopping silence, followed by a flash across the display of the diagnostic tool as the ion engines finally came back online and powered up properly. Lord Vader's prototype TIE fighter was functional again at last. The mechanic pulled the leads of the diagnostic tool off the engine's power terminals and leaned his dirty face out of the access panel in the belly of the ship. Sparks rained down from overhead, where he saw another technician securing the last of the solar panels he had fitted into place on the new wing frame. They were nearly done.

He slid out onto the gridded gantry, wiping off his hands and winding up the tool leads as he stood. He stretched his back and walked off down the gantry, happy to have finished ahead of schedule, avoiding the Force-hold, strangling death that so many others had met with over the years. He hurried away to locate the Dark Lord.

As a youngling watching and mimicking Qui-Gon, he had learned much about the way of the universe, and how many times reason, and the will of the Force, took a different path from that of popular conviction. He had spent his life, from before he could remember, studying the binding power that pulsed in all living things . . . feeling it, sensing it in others, drawing on it and allowing himself to be the conduit through which the channeled, focused power of the Force flowed.

It was the fruit of this lifelong study that had allowed him to whisper in young Luke's ear in moments most critical, at times of absolute need. As the crimson blade of Vader's lightsaber slashed through him, his physical body had been offered in sacrifice, allowing the necessary escape of Vader's children and allowing the hope for a reversal of the darkness that had infected the systems now under control of the first Galactic Empire. The energy that had coursed through him as his Force core was stripped from his physical body, pounding him with electrifying wave after wave of warmth and light had subsided. Now there was darkness, and the ebbing, rippling waves of the energy he was now a part of.

Now, his study must begin again anew. He would learn from Jedimasters that had gone on before him, and learn more about communing with the living. Years of study with his own dead master in the dim light of his Jedi training arena, through meditation and extreme concentration, had allowed Qui-Gon time to teach him to whisper to the living. Appearing to the living would require much more control and a deeper understanding. He now sensed his own master here, himself one with the Force, anxious to once again teach his apprentice.

Rogue and 0600 stepped off the tailboard of the troop transport into the blistering sand. Undulating waves of heat rippled up from the sea of tiny stones, distorting the view of moisture 'vaporators dotting the horizon in the distance. The cooling elements in their body gloves rushed coolant across their torsos as they walked toward the main dwelling of this modest moisture farm.

A kneeling farmhand, working on a nearby condenser unit, raised his tool in a wave as the troops walked past. 0600 nodded his bucket once at him, acknowledging the welcome. The apparent owner of the farm appeared at the entrance dome that led down below ground level. He was wiping a worn metal 'vaporator part with a filthy shop rag, watching them carefully as they approached.

0600 turned his head slightly, looking back to the farmhand, who had returned to his work inside the access panel of the condenser. He kept walking, and turned his attention back to the moisture farmer as he flipped on the power selector in the grip of his DLT-19.

The farmer was staring at the part in his hand, which he still rubbed although it was already clean and gleaming in the sunlight, "I didn't expect to actually see any of you. I know there was a lot of talk at the town meeting, but I never actually expected to see any action come from it."

The sound-activated voice processor in his helmet clicked on as Rogue responded, "We're here to make a preliminary assessment of the situation at each of the farms in the region. There are several teams like ours visiting other farmers such as yourself right now. Do you grow plants and food, or just harvest water?"

The voice enhancer clicked off with a small burst of static as the farmer's lips parted in a wide grin revealing crooked, untended teeth beneath, "There's only two farmers crazy enough to gamble the future of their farms on moisture collection AND hydroponic crops, and one of them is dead now."

He pushed the back of his dirty hand across his mouth and nose in a wiping motion. "All the years I knew him, Owen Lars always worked twice as hard as anyone else out here to make sure he wrapped up the season owing nobody nothing. He worked his nephew just as hard." He rubbed a bit more on the part within the folds of the rag, "The other one is Huff Darklighter."

Rogue thought a moment as he turned his helmeted head, looking across the small homestead and asked, "Have you had any trouble from the Tuskens, or the Jawas?"

The farmer squinted a bit in the glaring sun, as he pulled his hood up over his head, shielding him from the brilliance of the reflected Tatooine suns. His tunics and robe flapped in the light, hot breeze, "I had 3 tanks siphoned dry last week, I don't know who did it, but it stinks of Raiders. Jawas mainly go after hardware . . . droids, machinery. Every once in awhile the little buggers steal some water, but not as a rule. They have their own 'vaporators, pieced together from all the scrap they collect and cart around selling. One of the farmers on the other side of the next canyon had two hands killed when a booby-trapped 'vaporator exploded."

0600 looked at Rogue, then back to the farmer, "If the Tuskens steal water from you, why destroy the 'vaporators, that doesn't make sense." The worn farmer screwed up his face as he thought about what 0600 had just said "I never thought about it like that before. If it wasn't them who would it be? Darklighter has more business than he can handle and sells to most of the markets in Anchorhead, Mos Eisley and Bestine.

He has a few dealings in Mos Espa, and between you and me, I think he wants to expand in that market, but he wouldn't do something like that. He's had his own share of thieving and vandalism." Rogue nodded, glanced at 0600 and then back to the farmer, "We'll pay Mr. Darklighter a visit and see what he can tell us."

He turned away, and headed back toward the transport with 0600, laying the weight of his rifle across his left elbow, "Who stands to gain from moisture farmers suffering?" They stepped up to the tailboard of the transport and settled on the bench as 1265 brought the engines up and the craft slipped away from the farm.

"1265, did you monitor what was said?" asked Rogue. The pilot's voice came back through his helmet comm, "Every word, sir. We're on our way to the Darklighter residence now." On the horizon, unnoticed by the team as they raced across the sand, black smoke rose in a column from the canyons of the Jundland Wastes.

Etz listened to the absence of wind, and the whirring of the 'vaporators as they walked away from the moisture farm toward the drop ship. All three were about to file onto the sentinel's ramp when Topolev spotted something coming toward them from deeper in the canyons, a cloud of sand billowing out behind it. The others stepped back off the ramp for a better view. Etz snapped on his macros and took a look. "It's someone on a swoop bike."

He lowered the macros and clicked them off. The rider streaked toward them at top speed, and as it drew closer, the pilot turned slightly, heading straight for them. At the last possible instant, the power to the main thrusters was cut and switched to the brake thrusters and the bike skidded to a halt alongside them, spraying sand up from the push of the brakes.

The pilot leaped off the bike in the middle of a dust cloud and pulled off her helmet, it was Camie, the young girl from Tosche Station in Anchorhead. Falker stepped over to yell at her when she began screaming at them, wild-eyed, "Get help! Come with me, there's been an accident!" She was panting for air and shaking . . . adrenaline and fear was rushing through her.

Topolev stepped over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Slow down and breathe. What happened?"

The moisture farmer they had been speaking with, and his wife, was running out of their home toward them as Camie coughed and fought to speak. Her chest heaved as she wiped her hair away from her dusty face, "The guys were out in Beggar's Canyon on a speed run . . . in their T-16s. They were on the straightaway approaching the Stone Needle when a downdraft pushed Fixer into Deak and Windy. They both crashed."

The farmer's wife raised her hand to her mouth. Falker was eying the horizon, noting the black smoke rising against the sky as she continued.

"I was watching from the rim and was trying to warn them about the wind shift I had picked up on my scanners but they couldn't hear me. There must be a strong solar wind from the suns today breaking up my signal. I couldn't get down to where they were in the canyon, so I decided to go for help. We have to get back there now!"

Topolev turned to the others "Etz, take her swoop and go get medical help in Bestine Township, I think we're closer to it than the other settlements" Camie nodded, "We are."

Etz nodded and ran to the swoop, mounting up and powering it on as Topolev yelled out to him, "Watch for the sentinel signature when you head back to find us."

Sand sprayed up from the sudden wash of the main engines and Etz was gone in a cloud of dust, racing out across the flats. Falker was already on his way into the sentinel's cockpit to bring the engines online. The moisture farmer ran to one of his nearby 'vaporators and ripped the collection tank from it as he ran for his parked speeder "Get inside and see if you can raise Bestine to be ready for that other trooper!" His wife nodded, and ran down into their home.

Topolev and Camie ascended the ramp as the sentinel lifted from the sand and headed out into the canyons.

The hot winds blowing in from the Dune Sea buffeted the swoop and sprayed fine sand across Etz' armor in waves as he raced toward Bestine. Beneath the rim of his helmet, the wind roared in his ears as he watched the heads-up thermal imaging that now overlaid the landscape ahead, showing hot and cool air drafts. He slipped the bike to the left slightly, avoiding a thermal updraft. When updrafts and downdrafts clustered and became intertwined, a serious sandstorm could be born.

The roaring wind reminded him of the thunderous sound of the waterfalls on Corellia. He remembered hiking with friends, as a boy, into the mountains to the falls and sleeping under the stars with that roar in his ears and the fine, cool water mist in the air.

As he came back into the dry heat of the moment, the domed rooftops of Bestine became visible above the horizon. He stomped down on the accelerator pedal, increasing his speed toward the town, and help.

The weight of my question pulled on the Ithorian arborist like an invisible weight hanging around his neck. He closed his eyes as if my very words had caused him pain. The roar of the crowds here in the crowded marketplace seemed to fall away into silence as he opened his eyes and turned slightly to look at me, "He never took me there" was his response.

"We came to know each other fairly well over the years, but he never shared the location of his home with me. He was protecting something of great value, and could not compromise its safety. He said he had made a deal with the Sand People in the place where he lived. He allowed them water from his 'vaporator in exchange for being able to live in their territory without having to fear raids or harm."

I shifted a bit on my feet, "I've seen the leftovers the old man leaves behind when he draws his lightsaber, both in the cantina and in the alleys of this city, and I don't think he would have been living in fear."

Nadon nodded, "True, he was a master of his sword, and did not need to fear them, but perhaps he tried to choose a path that held less destruction and more good will? If I had to guess, I would say that his home is somewhere out in the cliffs of the wastes somewhere. I know that isn't much help; however it is the best response I can offer you."

I nodded silently, thinking for a moment as we walked on through the crowded market to the streets beyond. "How long have you been on Tatooine", I questioned further. He took a few steps, thinking "The better part of thirty standard years, I suppose." I nodded again, "Do you remember ever seeing Republic Commandos stationed here?"

We took a few steps further along the sands of the busy street. He eyed a small parts shop and stepped inside out of the beating sunlight, "Republic Commandos you say? Now there's something I've not thought of in a long time. If my memory serves, there was a group of Commandos in charge of the dig site."

I looked at him as he picked up a small repulsor motivator and rolled it over in his muscular hands. "Dig site?" was all I could manage in response. He nodded slowly as he put down the part, "Yes, the dig site on the far side of the planet. There was a group of them overseeing the dig operations . . . less than a Garrison, but definitely more than a Squad. I would say about twenty of them altogether. Most of their time was spent at the dig facility itself, but they came here to relax and drink between shift rotations. They had a small barracks across from Chalmun's Cantina, but they were almost never there."

He picked up a power flux coupling as I responded, "OK, back up. What was the dig facility for?" He glanced back at me, "No one really knew. It was all kept very quiet. Crews were brought in from off-world to work the dig. None of the locals were allowed to work there. Darklighter Water grew immensely in those days, supplying water to the crew and troops at the dig site. It caused a lot of tension and resentment toward the troops and Huff Darklighter. What would make you ask about them? They left here about . . . oh, twenty years ago."

I picked up a redundant isolator and walked toward the owner of the shop, who was seated behind a small counter. He was busy re-wiring the instrument cluster console of an X-32 landspeeder, but he laid down his tools as I approached holding up the part. He rubbed his chin, "Ten credits." I pulled out two coins from the belt pouch and laid them on the counter.

Nadon followed as I stepped back out into the street and turned back toward him, "We're using the barracks you spoke of as our headquarters, and we found . . . something of interest that raised a lot of questions about that time period." I stopped and turned, looking to both sides for any potential listeners, then faced him, "We found a Commando sealed in Carbonite. Stashed and forgotten, probably for at least twenty years, possibly longer."

The Ithorian's eyes opened wide in disbelief. "It's true." I continued, "We found him, and we're not quite sure what to do with him." As I finished my sentence, a video window opened in front of my left eye, and static-laden audio crackled in my left ear. It was Topolev, and he was urgently calling the rest of us to his location, "Follow the shuttle's signal until you find us, out in the wastes."

* * *

The reptilian Harbor Master let out a breath of relief as 4120, Felth and Blade left his office. He stood up from his chair, taking great care not to step in the puddle he had created under his desk.

"Rendar has already raised ship again" said Felth, reading the report to 4120 as they walked away from the office. Blade looked back to the open doorway they had just left, half expecting to see the Harbor Master leaning out, watching them. 4120 flipped off the power switch on his E-11 as Felth continued, "He's raised ship, but this report shows he's reserved a larger private docking bay out on the fringes of the spaceport when he returns. It says that he's flying for the Hutt."

4120 considered the information as they walked back toward base. The sounds of incoming and departing ships layered themselves in with the low roar of the marketplace, and the occasional whine of a passing swoop. Felth clicked on his internal comm system and selected 4120 only as the recipient of his call, "4120, I've been thinking . . . we don't have an intelligence officer in the group. I have the background and wanted to know what you think about me taking on that role?"

4120 kept walking, then responded only to him, "Let me speak with Rogue. I can't imagine a reason why you shouldn't be allowed to assume that position, but let me run it past him for his thoughts." Felth nodded slightly, moving further away and falling back in step. Beneath his helmet, his lip curled into a slight smile as he thought of the damage he could do with the information he could begin funneling to the Alliance. Dodonna had been appreciative of his last reports, and was now sharing information with other high-ranking Alliance Commanders and Generals.

Suddenly, 4120 stopped dead in his tracks, "There's an urgent message coming through from Topolev." He waited, watching the holo-display before his left eye. Blade and Felth moved closer, anticipating the news about to come.

"There's been an accident out in the canyons. We've gotta get back to base and get the transport. Blade, comm over to Deckard, we're going to need him to go with us."

Falker raised the nose of the shuttle and lifted away from the rock formations they were skimming over, pulling up higher into the air. Late afternoon shadows now filled the canyons below, and the horizon was shrouded in a purple haze as the twins suns descended. Topolev noticed the other T-16s circling nearby.

Camie leaned over past Topolev to look out the port, "They've been waiting for their turns at the speed run route. I guess when the guys from the previous run didn't come back to the start position, they came up here to get a better view of the course", tears welled in her eyes as she thought the worst of what had happened.

Falker was busy on the comm, hailing the smaller ships and directing them away from the airspace. "T-16 pilots, leave this area at once and set down on the canyon rim." The other pilots were local kids, all refusing to evacuate the area. "I repeat, evacuate this airspace now!" They continued to circle until Falker fired a warning shot dangerously close to one of the small craft. They all broke formation and rolled away, heading for the canyon rim. Falker shook his head, "Kids."

Rays of brilliant afternoon sunlight streamed into the entryway of the dim medical building as Etz burst through the heavy, crude doors, flinging sand into the air, "We need help now out in the canyons!"

The female Rodian seated at the admitting desk jumped up and raced around the counter to calm him, "Chunktau uhm gompacta fehr de gumptau duhn chanka." A short, human male doctor ran through the doorway from the back room, "She says we got a garbled message about an accident, but the transmission broke up before we got any details." The Rodian nodded emphatically, pointing to the doctor.

Etz caught his breath, "There was an accident in the canyons. Several kids in T16s racing a speed run . . . three hurt that I know of." As he listened, the doctor was already grabbing several cases of gear and supplies, "I have a medical transport speeder 'round back" he said. "You lead the way, but don't lose me" he said, wagging a finger toward the front door, "I don't think I can keep up with your bike."

Etz nodded, already turning around and heading out the front to the swoop as the doctor disappeared down the rear hallway. He threw his armored leg over the saddle of the bike and raised the engines from idle standby to maximum power. The doctor's transport speeder slipped around the low, stone wall into the front courtyard as Etz prepared the bike. He rolled the handgrip down, throttling up the main thrusters. The bike leaned slightly left on its' repulsor field and roared away in a cloud of dust.

Blade's voice came over my helmet's comm set as I stepped off the lift into the cache, "Deckard, there's been an accident, and we're needed out in the canyons of the wastes. We're on our way back to HQ, meet us there." The sound of my boots on the floor echoed in the silent room as I ran across the open storage area toward the transport, "Got the message . . . I'm already there." I pulled down the lever to open the upper bay doors and stepped up onto transport's tailboard.

A glance skyward at the shield showed patches of sunlight streaming through small mounds of settled sand on the outside of the energy barrier. I moved forward into the cockpit, "Meet me in the courtyard out back, I'll be waiting for you."

"Copy that" came his response as I pulled off my helmet, switched the comm to broadcast mode, and tossed it on the seat beside me. I flipped on the power, bringing the engines online as I clipped into the restraint harness. The transport rose from its hovering position as I eased back on the main controls, pushing through the shield barrier overhead, and out into the courtyard. Felth, 4120 and Blade spilled out of the alley as I emerged into the afternoon sunlight, "Let's go!"

The sky over the jungles of Yavin IV had grown dark grey and clouded over menacingly. Commander Skywalker sat high atop the Massassi Temple in the cool air, trying to calm himself . . . to let go his conscious self, and act on instinct, as Obi-Wan had taught him. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on his breathing. He felt his heart slowly beating in his chest as his lungs drew in air, and exhaled it away. These were natural rhythms and were the center point of his focus as he began to feel something. It was something new. It wasn't the same rippling sensation he had felt on the _**Millennium Falcon **_while training with Ben and his seeker remote. It was . . . wet!

He opened his eyes to witness the most bizarre and amazing event he had ever seen. Naturally occurring water was freely falling from the skies in tiny droplets. He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back, allowing them to splash on the exposed skin of his face. The farmboy from Tatooine, turned Rebel Commander, had never experienced rain before, and he was amazed. He was taking in the exotic rainstorm when Leia emerged from the dark stone stairwell. "Come on, flyboy, it's not safe up here." Luke opened his eyes, turning to look her way, "Why not?" She reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet "When it rains like this there's usually a discharge of . . ."

As she spoke the words, a slash of lightning ripped jaggedly through the dark sky, illuminating her face and was immediately followed by a heart-pounding crash of thunder. As the crash rolled into a rumble she finished her sentence, "Lightning". Luke stood and followed her down the dark stairs, "I'm sure where you come from that happens all the time, but where I come from, I had to work hard every day of the season on broken down 'vaporators to get a fraction of the water that just spontaneously dropped out of the sky!" She stopped, taking in his words "Well, if the location we're hoping for in a new rendezvous point works out, you'll get the chance to see another form of water falling from the sky, only this kind comes down frozen! I came looking for you because I need your help. Dodonna's busy in a strategy meeting and I need your thoughts on how best to proceed. We have a force of combat-ready T-47 airspeeders, but the techs say they won't hold up in the temperatures we could potentially expose them to."

He blinked away his vacant stare, as if he had been visualizing her words, and looked at her, "What location did you have in mind?" She looked around, then back to him, lowering her voice "Very cold temperatures. Hopefully a place the Empire would think we'd avoid. Any thoughts on the speeders?" He looked away a second, then back to her, "You said T-47, right? Incom?" She nodded. He thought more for a second "I remember hearing Fixer talk about a friend of his who worked in a shipyard. The T-47 was designed as a civilian airspeeder, for cargo handling, and was used on the loading platforms. This friend rebuilt and modified one of the older de-commissioned speeders to fly in a race in cold temperatures. I know he added de-icing gear to keep the stabilizers and flaps clear, and I think he put in heater coils near the drive units. It ended up racing fine, so I know it can be done."

She nodded again, "Thanks. I'll get that information to the right people." He smiled, "How long before we evacuate this place?" She began her descent down the curving spiral stairs once more as she spoke, "We're negotiating a deal now to get the necessary ice-cutting tools so our crews can begin carving out the new location. It'll take a while to get everything ready for us to use it. We'll need to set up the facilities and power generators, but we can't stay here long. A few months maybe, but after that, the Empire will have re-grouped its forces and be on our doorstep ready for some payback. We may need to move in prematurely and build it up as we go."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 – Canyon Search**

Under the watchful eye of the moisture farmer, the group of young local pilots stood gathered at the canyon's rim far above us, peering through macrobinoculars at the wreckage and scattered debris field below, their baggy tunics flapping wildly in the late afternoon winds.

Rogue had instructed both the drop ship and the shuttle to be set down at the base of the Stone Needle, near the wreckage of the two airships. We had taken the transport and were slowly gliding over the scattered debris that was leading us back to the original point of impact. Topolev, Falker and I were watching off the tailboard and over the open sides for any signs of life as Blade piloted, slowly creeping along. The initial point of impact was several hundred meters behind the smoking remains of the ships, with a scattering of parts flung across the stony floor and high into the jagged cliff rocks.

Back at the ships, the fuel gel in the T-16s had long since burned away, and all that remained now was hot twisted metal . . . neither craft would ever fly again. Camie sat with the doctor on the ramp of the sentinel as we worked to get inside the tangled mess. "There's no pilot in this one!" shouted Etz as he and 0600 shoved aside a panel of metal. From the other ship came Danz' reply in a shout "Nobody in this one either, but the safety cage appeared to have ejected before impact."

4120 and Ddraig walked away from Etz and began looking for the ejected cockpit portions. Felth and 1265 took the other side of the canyon. They spread out as they walked past the enormous vertical stone column in the center of the canyon floor known as the Stone Needle.

Ddraig looked up at its jagged sides as they walked past. From this low angle, he could only see a small bit of sky through the smooth, wind-carved slot in the center of the upper portion of the natural monolith. To his right, another canyon branched out and away from the huge stone obstruction. His thoughts flashed back to their stomach-churning drop from the Devastator and Lt. Tank's last minute roll into this canyon on their way to Mos Eisley.

Felth and 1265 were finding more small debris but nothing that resembled a cockpit when 4120 took off running a short distance over a small stony rise and down into the small rut beyond it, "I've got one of them!" Falker ran over to get a good look, "It's Loneozner. Looks like he's alive . . . for now."

A teary eyed Camie jumped up off the boarding ramp and ran to follow 4120, Rogue and the others, as Blade turned the transport around. The doctor caught up to Camie and grabbed her arm, holding her back. He spun her around to face him, "Let us check them first, we have no idea how bad things are in there. You may not want to see this." She tugged her arm away from him, but agreed to wait. He hurried ahead to where 4120 was, "Don't move him."

The doctor was looking over Fixer as Felth and 1265 continued their sweep on the other side of the canyon. As they circled around to come back to the first cage, 1265 noticed a small jutting overhang above them. He crossed over to the sentinel, up the ramp to the cargo area and opened a small panel, retrieving what looked like a blaster rifle. Felth watched as he walked back over to the overhang and pointed his blaster toward the stone wall above it and fired. The blaster in his hand shook as a coiled line was deployed behind a spiked hook.

As the sharp hook slammed into the stone wall, secondary durasteel anchors instantly deployed, digging into the rock. 1265 gripped the handle of the blaster tightly and squeezed the trigger a second time. The gun rapidly wound up the line, pulling him off his feet and up to the overhead stone shelf. Blackened, streaking scars ran along the stone wall and the second cage lay on its side, crumpled against the canyon wall. "The second one's up here!" he yelled back down.

Camie looked over to 1265 and spoke softly almost to herself, "One? There should be two in there. Deak was riding with Windy in the other 'hopper."

* * *

In the absolute still, frozen silence of space along the outer reaches of the Hydian Way near Ord Radama, a tiny speck of a ship approached and slipped beneath the superstructure of the immense Star Destroyer _**Subverter**_. As it approached the main hangar bay, its electronic identity signature was read by one of the flight techs sitting at a long console. He flipped off the indicator and read through the transmitted beacon information on the monitor before him.

As he finished reading, he stood sharply, flinging his seat back as he leaned forward to look over the console, through the transparisteel pane into the bay below. The outside corner of his left eye began to twitch slightly. Down in the massive bay, amidst the racks of secured TIE Fighters and shuttles, he saw the unmistakable bent wings of a modified TIE fighter coupling with an overhead mooring.

He turned away and ran to the bulkhead comm at the end of his row and slapped his hand down on the transmit key as the other techs in the row twisted around to see what was happening, "Commander, Lord Vader has just docked in the main bay. I say again, Lord Vader is alive and has just docked in the main bay!"

* * *

Ddraig adjusted the controls, bringing the repulsor sled even with the edge of the stone outcropping. Felth and Topolev stepped off the floating platform onto the ledge and moved closer to the cockpit cage to help 1265 get the pilot out. Camie screamed from below "There's only one?"

Ddraig looked down at her, "Yes, only one. Should there have been more?" The feisty, dark-haired girl on the canyon floor yelled back up to him, "Yes! Deak and Windy were riding together. Deak has black hair, Windy has brown. Which one do you have?" Ddraig turned around to look at the others pulling the pilot out of the cage. The unconscious kid had black hair. He turned back to her, "We have Deak. There's no sign of Windy."

Felth helped 1265 lay Deak out on the flat rock. He was battered and cut up pretty severely, and one of his arms appeared broken, but he had a pulse and was breathing. As they checked him further, Topolev had turned and was following the curved top of the overhanging rock they were standing on. It disappeared around the corner into the side canyon they had taken on their first approach to Mos Eisley.

As he was rounding the corner, he heard faint grunting noises coming from the canyon ahead. As he cleared the stony corner, he saw a Tusken Raider, maybe forty meters away, securing Windy's unconscious body over the back of a Bantha saddle.

He reflexively pulled the E-11 from his holster, took aim at the creature, and fired. Through the reticle of his scope, he saw the creature turn suddenly, his blast striking it in the upper arm instead of the head. The howl of pain from the Raider roared down the canyon, echoing off the stone walls as it jumped into the saddle.

Topolev was taking aim for a second shot, and the other troopers were all running along the canyon floor to see what had happened when the startled young Bantha took off at a full gallop and disappeared into a deep, windcarved crevasse in the side of the canyon wall.

Rogue and the others were working the rescue operations, moving Fixer and Deak into the medical speeder for transport to Bestine and better medical care as Topolev, Blade, Etz and I ran, with blasters drawn, into the mouth of the narrow slot canyon. The fading sunlight of the afternoon seemed amplified here as the walls glowed an eerie orange. The twisting passageway snaked this way and that, further and further back into the cliff.

It continued to narrow and darken until finally, we came upon the Bantha, abandoned and left blocking the entrance to a cave that disappeared into the hillside itself. I grabbed the Bantha's reigns and moved it aside as the others headed into the darkness.

I let the braided leather strapping go and stepped inside the stone opening, remembering our last journey into one of Tatooine's caves. The heads up display in my helmet activated immediately, scanning in infrared. I was moving a bit slower now, as my eyes adjusted to the display, but I managed to catch up to the others, who were moving a bit more cautiously as well.

The cave walls became smoother and smoother the further in we went, and the grade of the floor began to angle down as well. The smooth, curving natural walls were now clearly a hand-crafted tunnel.

Light spilled from tiny airshafts into the dark hallway in regular intervals, momentarily rendering the infrared useless and nearly blinding us. We kept moving, advancing hopefully toward the Raider and the boy he had taken.

We could hear the Raider, up ahead somewhere in the darkness, running away from us with his unconscious prize, deeper into the hillside. Suddenly Topolev stopped, as our helmet displays suddenly snowed over and the images became scrambled. "Buckets off", he said, "Something in here's interfering with our gear." We all pulled our helmets off and continued on in the dark, running our hands along the smooth walls to find the way.

As we pressed on, the walls became uneven and bumpy. A light streamed into the tunnel ahead, fed by a large air shaft. As we moved closer to the lighted area, the source of the uneven walls became apparent.

The natural crevasse that led us into the cave and hand-carved tunnel had taken a turn for the grisly, as the "walls" were now made up of thousands and thousands of carefully stacked bones and skulls . . . placed in a tight, interlocking pattern. We all stopped to take in the scope of the dead that filled these chambers. Etz was the first to speak, "Where the hell are we?"

We were all stopped, staring at the stacks of leg bones and skulls. We had all seen and dealt our fair share of death, but none of us had ever seen the tedious, ritualistic placement and arrangement of bones into decorative patterns like this.

"I have no idea", I responded as I ran my hand over some of the carvings in the stone, "but we need to keep moving or that kid, Windy, will end up as part of the pile." I hurried off down the passageway calling over my shoulder, "We can find out more about this place later."

Etz took one last look before he turned to follow the rest of us.

Felth and 1265 carefully moved Deak from the hovering repulsor sled onto the softer repulsor-gurney and into the right side of the waiting medical transport speeder. The doctor was working on Fixer along the opposite side as they slid him into the cramped space.

4120 and Camie watched from the ground outside as the doctor used water from the farmer's moisture collection tank to clean away dried blood from Loneozner's face, exposing the laceration. He opened a package of bacta gel and squeezed some of it across the opening, then prepared a bandage to cover it. As he secured the bandage, he shot a glance over at Deak. The young man's nose was angled sharply to the side, undoubtably broken, as was his arm, "Not quite as cut up, but still not good. We're going to have to transport these two to Bestine as quickly as possible. If your other troops aren't back soon, you'll need to bring the other one along when they return."

4120 nodded and turned away from the med speeder as he activated his chin-switch, "Deckard, what's the update on your pursuit? Deckard?"

Rogue stepped over to him, "I've been trying to reach them too, they're not responding. I'm going up to the rim in the shuttle to disperse the crowd and load up the swoop bike. I'll be back for you shortly. Keep trying."

*

As I was running along in the darkness with my hand trailing along the wall, I suddenly heard Etz and Blade fade away from behind me. Topolev and I both stopped, retracing our steps as I yelled, "Etz!"

"Yeah, Deckard we're here. I think the tunnel forked", said Etz. We backtracked until we all came together again. "Etz and I must have been following the wall on the right side" said Blade.

"Yeah, I was following the one on the left", I replied. "Great. The tunnel branches off here."

I flicked on my E11 and peered down each of the hallways through the scope, now displaying in infrared mode, but saw nothing. "We're gonna have to split up. We have no idea which way the raider went." As I spoke, there was a crackling coming from the comm inside my helmet: "Csssshhh . . . Deckard . . . Deckard, you there?"

I pulled my bucket on, hearing 4120 coming through the headset. I clicked the chin switch, "Deckard here. We're in pursuit of the Raider and the boy. Be advised there is a comm blackout area in these tunnels, you're coming through, but barely."

There was a moment's silence, then 4120's chopped signal again, Cssssshhhh: "Falker and Felth will remain behind here for you with the Sentinel. Rogue, 0600, 1265 and I are heading to Darklighter Water. Ddraig and Danz will be escorting the doctor to Bestine. Find that boy."

I nodded imperceptibly in the dark, "We will. Deckard out." I pulled off my bucket, "Falker and Felth are waiting for us, the others are heading out. You two go that way, Topolev and I will head this way. Watch out for that raider, he obviously knows this place better than we do."

*

He felt the silent, heavy energy of his Ghorfa ancestors pressing down on top of the already heavy weight of the unconscious human on his back as he ran through the sacred grounds. Beneath the pointed spikes thrusting out of his head wrappings, far inside the depths of his quasi-human brain, in a language understood by few outside his kind, his thoughts raced as he skillfully moved through the darkness.

He had been brought here before, many years ago by his elders and shown the destructive power of things outside the clan. Vivid memories of a frightened young child clinging to his grandfather's hand surfaced in his mind as he remembered seeing all those bones for the first time. The fearful images that the Shaman's stories of an ancient and unforgiving plague painted in his mind were as clear today as they had been then.

The story of the great fireball that fell to the surface, as with all of the Shaman's stories, had been told around the tribal fires. The warriors and elders had rushed to inspect it, finding large chunks of frozen water at the crater of the comet. They were quickly collected and taken away as gifts from the gods. The ice melted, yielding large amounts of water, which was celebrated and consumed with the belief that it would yield mystical powers by any who drank of it. In reality, the revered water of the gods had carried deadly microbes from the far reaches of space. The numbers of the dead grew so rapidly that the bodies could not be disposed of fast enough.

Further spreading of the plague to those who had not drunk the water, compromising the last hope for continuing their race, was feared. Those that had drunk from the infected water that were lucky enough to have been immune to the ravages of the plague suffered an alternately gruesome fate, becoming the "keepers of the dead".

Those poor souls had the job of removing traditional wraps and moving the naked, rotting corpses of their friends to the area of the "great sands" (the Teeth of Tatooine) to be stripped of their flesh. When the grisly task was complete, and only the bones remained, they were moved to these caves and reverently stacked and placed with great care and artistry. This simultaneously removed the unclean from the tribes and created a monument to their immense suffering.

He stopped to adjust the weight of the human across his shoulders and heard others coming down the passageway behind. Others had hunted Bantha or desert Wraids to be the victim of their bloodrite torturing. He would be revered as a mighty hunter if he could successfully evade his pursuers and torture the captured human, extending the suffering and agony for as many weeks as possible before death.

Once that was completed, he would have only the largest and final task. To hunt and slay a Krayt Dragon, and retrieve a stone from its stomach. He gripped Windy's forearm and ankle as he ran, pretending it was the shaft of the gaderffii that would be bestowed upon him by the High Urr'Ak once he passed these tests and became an adult hunter.

On his left he passed a dark tunnel opening and then an air shaft above, spilling light. He turned his head momentarily to the side to look into one of the two chambers of elders. The bones here were arranged in circular patterns, one in each chamber, to honor the suns Tatoo I and Tatoo II.

The darkened steps, the end of the nightmarish detour through these sacred grounds, were now just ahead as he had remembered. He raced up them into the warmth of the fading afternoon sunslight, running out across the courtyard of the Kumumgah. This was the oldest known ruin on Tatooine. It had been crafted by the hands of the original Tatooine inhabitants, and had been preserved from the destructive sands by the canyon walls which surrounded it. Ancient stories suggested that both the Ghorfa and the Jawas descended from the Kumumgah, but no one knew with any certainty.

*

Blade nearly ran into Topolev and me as the two twisting passageways we had both been following separately finally rejoined. There was light here, streaming into two bone chambers, one on either side of the tunnel. In the light emanating from these rooms, we were barely able to see the only way out of these passages . . . stone stairs on the far wall.

*

The Tusken was almost across the courtyard to the crevasse in the wall on the far side which led out to the next canyon, when multiple crimson bolts from Imperial blasters pierced his back and exploded through his chest, spraying his blood ahead into the sand where he now stumbled and fell. Windy was thrown forward, rolling off the raider's shoulders and away from his struggling captor.

The four of us ran across the stony courtyard, blasters at the ready, and moved in to check the body. The ragged breathing through the screened mouth stopped and the shuddering body went limp as the last of his life and blood drained away. Topolev and Blade were scanning the stony cliffs above while Etz moved in to check Windy, "He's alive. Get Falker and Felth here so we can transport this kid to Bestine."

I was already on the comm.

* * *

The _**Subverter**_ emerged from the vortex of hyperspace deep in the Tapani sector. Several robotic convoy ships, travelling the final leg of the Shapani Bypass at sub-light speeds, lumbered along toward the core systems, their cryogenically frozen crews unaware that the Star Destroyer had appeared behind them. The destroyer followed a course heading that took them past Mrissi on final approach to the orbital shipyards above Fondor. Lord Vader was anxious to reach the platform and oversee the final construction stages of his personal Super Star Destroyer, the _**Executor**_.

Deep within the _**Subverter**_, in a dark, private conference room, the Dark Lord of the Sith was kneeling, speaking with his holographic mentor, "Yes master, that is correct, I am approaching the Fondor shipyard. The _**Executor **_will soon be ready, giving us time to coordinate the ground forces, bomber squads and other TIE air support to move in on the rebel's base before they evacuate their personnel."

"Excellent", replied the Emperor, "The whole of the Yavin system has been under constant surveillance to ensure that the rebels do not escape us. I sense that your intention is to lead the retaliatory attack against the rebels on the Yavin moon."

"Yes, master. I will personally deliver our response to the destruction of the Death Star from the bridge of my new ship."

The hologram of the Emperor paused momentarily, reflecting on the conversation, "It would appear that you have things well under control there. Proceed with your plan, Lord Vader."

Vader bowed his helmeted head, "As you wish."

The flickering bluish image of the Emperor continued to stare down at him, "Was there something else you wanted to tell me, Lord Vader? I sense something weighing on your thoughts."

Vader considered his response carefully. He had purposely kept the thoughts and emotions concerning his son buried deep down, "No, master, only thoughts of the task at hand."

"Very well."

As the image of the Emperor flickered away, Vader rose from his knees, revealing a breath-taking scene out his viewport. Fondor shimmered with brilliant blue oceans and swirled white clouds. The shipyards were situated in orbit far above the planet, and construction crews were hard at work on his enormous new vessel.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21 – Fate and the Shifting Sands**

In the six or so weeks that had followed the crash in the canyon, things had calmed a bit around the spaceport. Our sweeps of the city and visits to the outlying moisture farms continued on in relative mundane tedium. Although the farmers were usually surprised, they were generally always happy to see us actually following through on our promises to be a presence in the region.

Rogue had spoken with Darklighter, and discovered that he too was the victim of sabotage and theft. Not only were his 'vaporators being damaged and drained of their water, crops were being stolen from his hydroponic gardens as well. Supplies from his company warehouses had also been rifled through and some small items taken. If he was behind the issues we were investigating for the moisture farmers, he had been very careful to cover his tracks.

On several occasions, while showing me the best places to find 'droid parts, I had engaged the Hammerhead, Nadon, in conversations about General Kenobi, but had learned precious little more than I had already uncovered. Kenobi, Luke and the 'droids carrying the secret data were all intertwined somehow. If I wanted to know more about the man, and why he would have left with a local farmboy and the 'droids we were hunting, I had to find his home. I had a theory, untested as of yet, that involved the electronic signature of a moisture 'vaporator's condenser motor. If they had a strong enough signature to be read by the instruments on the Sentinel, I could use it to perform sweeps over the stony canyons of the Jundland wastes to search for Kenobi's home. It wasn't much, but if it worked, it might just be the best lead I had.

4120 and Etz had made several trips to Bestine to check on the status of the injured kids. Windy had recovered completely and been discharged with no memory of the Tusken abduction, but Deak and Fixer remained under the constant supervision of several med 'droids. Fixer was definitely the worse of the two, with several broken ribs, a leg broken in three places, and multiple lacerations to the face and limbs. He also had yet to regain consciousness for more than a few seconds since the accident.

Deak had regained consciousness after about a week and had been recovering slowly, his own broken bones and torn muscles being regenerated daily in the therapy sessions with the 'droids. The swelling and black eyes had faded, but the bandages and tenderness surrounding his now-straightened nose remained. He had improved dramatically, however, and could soon be released.

Camie had barely left Fixer since the crash, and had sworn she would be at his side when he awoke. The doctor assured her it was only a matter of time before that happened, once the slight internal swelling in his head had gone down sufficiently to relieve the pressure on his brain.

Back at base, in Mos Eisley, we had still not come to a decision about the imprisoned Commando, much to Etz' discontent. The agreement to disagree as to the troopers' fate had been one of quiet informality. One day had turned into two, which became a week, which had turned into several weeks. Etz had given up hope, switched off the repulsor field generator embedded in the carbonite and propped the prisoner up on an angle against the wall at the end of our bunkroom.

Ddraig and I had been trying unsuccessfully for four days to bring the damaged astromech online, having burned out two power sources while trying to figure out the wiring scheme. We were confident that we had worked through the errors and were ready to try once again. 1265 was in the 'fresher, Topolev was on his bunk sipping cool water as he cleaned his E-11 and Etz was almost asleep on his as we worked. Rogue, Falker and 4120 were in the front office and Danz and Blade were out on a patrol.

I sat on my bunk and connected the 'droids wiring harness to the power cells as Ddraig, sitting on his bunk on the opposite side of the little 'droid, flipped on the small fusion furnace to jump-start the circuits. He looked over at me, I nodded to him, "All set here, go ahead." He pressed and released the momentary contact switch on the fusion furnace, sending a pulse through the 'droids circuits. Lights flickered on the front of the dome, which swiveled with a whirring sound a quarter turn to the right and stopped.

A slight curl of smoke issued from the front vents and a piercingly loud tone screamed out of the audio processors immediately followed by a pulse wave that shattered the container Topolev was drinking from and sent a chest-pounding concussion wave throughout the building.

Ddraig and I were shielding our faces as the sound subsided and the 'droid powered itself off. "What the hell was that?" I asked. Ddraig shrugged his shoulders as the three from the front room raced through the door, "What was that?" asked Rogue.

"I have no idea", I said, "we're trying to find out now." I checked the new power cells, "They're fine." I looked over at Ddraig, "What happened?" He was checking the fusion furnace, which had switched off, "I'm not sure, it doesn't look like it was the furnace."

As he spoke, Etz sat up on his bunk, "Look!" He was pointing across the room. The carbonite block had been shoved several feet along the wall and slammed into the corner by the strong push of the sonic blast. A yellow, oval light panel situated along the edge of the prisoner containment unit was blinking rapidly on and off as the internal systems came online and began the countdown to rapid thaw and carbonite liquification.

Fate had made our choice for us.

Suddenly, the room was flooded in a pale orange glow from the silvery metal slab as the thin carbonite covering the commando's face began to heat up and split open. Where the cracks occurred, blinding beams of white light streamed out into the room, becoming brighter as the fissures on the metallic surface widened. We all shielded our eyes as we heard the high-pitched whistling sound of the sizzling carbonite melting off of the deep-frozen surface of the prisoner beneath, flowing away into small puddles on the floor, instantly cooling and re-solidifying.

As quickly as the process had begun, it ended. The whining whistle subsided, and the glow receded as the thin, icy shroud covering the trooper melted and steamed away as his body was forced through the quick-thaw process. His limp, armored body slipped forward, out of the remains of his carbonite cocoon, and he slumped to a heap on the floor. Convulsive spasms rocked his body, and his head and limbs shook uncontrollably as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Rogue, 4120 and 0600 lifted the convulsing trooper into the nearest spare bunk as Falker grabbed the blanket from the end of Danz' bunk and draped it over him. As they fought to keep him from shaking himself off the bunk, dogtags hanging from a chain around his neck slipped out. Etz reached up, wrapped the chain around his right hand and snapped it off the Commando's neck.

With his left arm holding the trooper down, he held up the other up, opening his palm, revealing the upside down tag. He rotated it around to read:

_**HOLDER**_

_**6th Battalion**_

_**501st Legion**_

A second tag fell out from behind the first reading:

_**Tatooine Coring Project**_

"He's one of us! It says HOLDER, 6th Battalion, 501st Legion. He was part of the Tatooine Coring Project."

Falker grabbed the straps off his gearbag and clipped one end to one side of the bunk and stretched them across the Commando's chest and arms to the other side, adjusting it tighter into a makeshift restraint, "Ddraig, grab some other straps. These convulsions are normal, but he might hurt himself if he's not restrained. We need to get the doc from Bestine to check him out. The unusually long deep freeze might warrant more help than we know how to give."

"Sure" replied Ddraig as he grabbed the straps off his bag and mine. Falker took them, securing the thighs and calves of the convulsing trooper, "He's in bad shape guys. Actually, I'm surprised he's alive at all. Well, now we don't have the question of IF we should let him out, but rather what to do with him now that he IS out." He flashed a glance to everyone standing around the room, "_Holder_ is out of the carbonite, but he's far from out of danger.

The doctor had two medical bags open and was busy placing electrodes on the shaking trooper, conducting several tests, as we stood around in the front office. _Holder_ had made it through the night without incident, although there were moments of struggling against the restraints and barely coherent ramblings about traitors and how they would be sorry for their actions, as if he were reliving a moment from his past.

We had removed the upper armor pieces to allow for the doctors tests and had discovered that Holder's upper limbs were severely withered and atrophied from inactivity. If he survived the first week, and his mental functions came back in line with reality, he could begin a physical reconditioning shortly thereafter, but it would take time to gain his strength back.

Ddraig was at the holonet port reading messages while the rest of us stood around waiting. I had two logic units and some tools in my hand and wasn't due for a patrol for several hours. As the others talked quietly and peered into the bunk room, I stepped out the front portal to the streets and walked around the side of the building through the narrow alley to the courtyard in back. I walked over and sat on the edge of the loading dock in back, pulling off my helmet and setting it beside me. I took in a nostril full of the hot, dry air and positioned myself in the shade of the overhang with my 'droid work.

As I worked, focused on the electronics in my hand, a dark-robed figure approached through the shadows of the alleyway. It was almost upon me when I noticed it and looked up. It was the Kubaz, Garindan. He began making squeaking noises as he spoke to me. I motioned for him to wait and pulled my helmet back on, switching on the translator unit. He began again, "Many sorrows for your fallen friend, back at bay 94." I nodded my head as he continued, "Although Tyrell obstructed your ability to keep the _**Millennium Falcon**_ from departing, I was hoping to perhaps receive a small amount of spice for my work performed. Rogue promised he would pay in spice for my services."

I responded, "I'll speak to him about it." Garindan nodded and began to turn away when I stopped him, "In your time here, did you ever have the need or chance to discover the whereabouts of the hermit's home?" The dark figure stopped and turned back, "No" he squawked, "I was following him once to see where he went, and suddenly found myself in a different place, unsure how I had gotten there, with a dull throbbing in my head. The hermit was nowhere to be found." I laughed under my breath, Jedi mind trick.

I went back to work and Garindan lingered a few moments until he was sure I needed nothing more, and then he disappeared into the alley. I pulled my helmet off when he was gone. A wind blew through the courtyard, spraying sand against the base of the loading dock below my dangling boots. It was a hot wind, but wind nonetheless.

I couldn't stop wondering what had caused the sonic wave. There was no damage to the 'droid or the fusion charger. Once I had these logic processor units rewired and ready to install, I would run a diagnostic check on the power-up protocol code. It was as if the 'droid had been told to emit the wave and then power itself off. As I worked, I realized that check might be a few days off though. These logic units were going to take some time. The pin configuration was much smaller than my tools. I would have to pick up a finer set to be able to proceed any further. While I was out, I would see about capturing the electronic signature of one of the moisture 'vaporators on the street.

The suns rose and fell 12 times, cycling across the arid sands of Tatooine, and Holder seemed to be improving. His nightmares came less frequently now, and the tremors had lessened in intensity, but there was still no coherent speech, no direct eye contact. The doc was worried that he might not recover from the insanely long freeze, but his estimates of a week's initial recovery period were based on normal encasement increments. This case took everything he knew about hibernation sickness and tossed them in the dunes. He took notes religiously on Holder's condition and improvements for possible future medical journaling.

Rogue and 4120 had announced several days ago that Davin Felth had been installed as our unit's intelligence officer. He spent a great deal of time on the holonet collecting information about the identities of anyone known to be in the Outer Rim territories that was wanted by the Empire. He was deeply engrossed in his work, studying the faces and profiles until he knew them all. He seemed to like the work and take it very seriously, but something was off a bit about Felth. I couldn't put my finger on it, but ever since the day I had startled him as he checked his holonet account, something just didn't click the way it should. Some of the other guys seemed to have similar feelings, but had not said anything to Felth or Rogue yet. I guess maybe they thought he was just sucking up to make an impression with his new CO.

Work had continued on the astromech, and we had gotten a lot done. The new tools I found for the logic units had worked well, and the systems were successfully installed. A few more days of diagnostic checks and we would be ready for another power-up attempt, most likely in the rear courtyard though, not inside again. It was mid-afternoon and hot. Etz and I were finishing up our patrol of the spaceport and on our way back to base when I saw Mamow Nadon talking with a pilot just outside Chalmun's Cantina.

I clicked my chin switch, "You go on ahead, I'll be along in a minute. I need to talk to the Hammerhead." Etz nodded his bucket and kept moving as I crossed the sandy street. Nadon dropped several credits in the pilot's waiting palm and was handed a small drawstring bag. He turned to go and caught sight of me approaching, "Officer Deckard, what can I do for you?" I motioned for him to follow me into the alley as I turned my head and checked the street in both directions. He followed me around the side of the Cantina. "I think I've found a way to search for Kenobi's home, and I want you to come with me when I go looking." He blinked and responded, his dual mouths uttering his stereo response, "What is your plan? He was a man that intentionally kept a low profile. He did not want to be found." I pulled out a small device from one of my belt pouches and held up the display for him to see as I pressed and held a small button on the side. There was a pattern of waves fluctuating across the small screen and a mid-level pulsing sound. "This is the pulse-wave signature of a moisture 'vaporator's condenser motor. All 'vaporators have them, I checked. While there is any number of condenser motors, from different manufacturers, they all pulse at exactly this frequency." The waves continued to dance across the screen, until I released the button and slipped the device back on my belt. I looked up at him, "I'm going to calibrate the sensors in our Drop Ship to sweep for this signal. You told me if you had to guess, he lived somewhere in the hills of the Jundland Wastes, and that he had a 'vaporator for water. Now we have a way to search for it."

Nadon nodded his head approvingly, "Excellent idea. I would be happy to accompany you. When did you want to begin looking?"

"Tonight. I need to know more about this man. If Lord Vader decides to come back here and deal with us for allowing Kenobi to slip away, I want to have more information about where he may have been heading, and why the boy was with him."

"Tonight it is then. Where should we meet?"

"Right here. That's the ship we'll be taking, there" and I pointed out into the courtyard to the Sentinel. I'll be back here once the suns have set." He nodded and began to walk away as I stopped him, "What's in the bag?"

"Seeds from my home planet. They just arrived. I can't wait to plant them, to have a little piece of home." and he walked away as several Cantina patrons came wandering around the corner and down the alley. They passed me, and I walked out to cross the street to the barracks.

There was a crowd in the Command Center as I entered from street, pulling off my bucket, "What's going on?" Falker turned his head to me, "Holder's starting to talk." I walked past Ddraig, who was reading a holonet message, and stepped through the open doorway into the bunkroom. I moved past Blade and 0600 and dropped my pack on my bunk, catching site of Holder through the crowd of bodies that surrounded him.

His grey eyes darted around the room, and his words came in hoarse bursts that appeared difficult, and almost painful.

"Who are you? My vision is blurry as hell, but I've never seen armor like that before. Did you kill the rest of them, or are you going to get in the way too?"

"Kill who? Get in the way of what?" said Topolev.

He raised his sweaty, quivering head and neck off the pillow and yelled, "The Jedi! I have to kill the General . . . Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's here, now on this planet! I'm not sure who you are, but you troops are just as much the traitors my squad mates were if you keep me confined."

Ddraig spoke up, walking in from the Command Center, "You've been in a Carbonite block for the past 20 years. The reason you don't recognize our armor isn't because of your fuzzy vision, it's because it is the evolved version of your gear." Holder blinked his burning eyes as the room fell silent, all eyes on him. He tried to calm himself as the implications of the bombshell sunk in. A thin layer of cold sweat beaded up across his skin, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Twenty years gone. He looked from face to face around the room, trying to catch a glimmer of real truth to cling to through the haze.

Ddraig continued as Holder calmed a bit, "General Kenobi is already dead. Now that the holonet connection has been synched up again, I received an old message from my friend, TK1999, at Imperial Center on Coruscant. Lord Vader killed Jedimaster Kenobi in a lightsaber duel." Fuzzy memories of his past sharpened and came into focus once again, as if it were yesterday, "Who is Lord Vader?"

Rogue stepped forward, "Lord Vader is the right hand of the Emperor." 0600 questioned Holder from the back of the room, "How were your squad-mates traitors?" Holder trembled, "They kept me from killing that Jedi scum when I had the chance." Rogue remained silent for a moment, thinking . . . looking around, "Every trooper in this room is loyal to the Empire. Tell us what happened to you."

Holder took a breath with eyes closed. The memories were still congealing into coherent thoughts in his head as he began, "Bear with me. I'm still trying to adjust to the time slip. I was part of a team of Republic Commandos that was activated near the end of the Clone Wars. About a month in, the Emperor issued Order 66, making all Jedi Knights enemies of the Empire. Understand, until Order 66 came down, we had been working, fighting and dying alongside the Jedi. Suddenly, they were the enemy. I never questioned Palpatine's decree. It just never occurred to me to question whether or not my unit felt the same.

The Emperor's Clone army was an amazing fighting force, but we all continued to age too rapidly. The Kaminoan cloners had created a serum that would reverset the aging process to a normal pace, but had never made it available. They wanted to continue cranking out wave after wave of clones, satisfying not only the initial order from JediMaster Sifo Dyas, but new, lucrative orders from the Emperor as well. Palpatine demanded the serum, and the Kaminoans hid it, denying its existence

Many rumors began to circulate about troops that actually ignored Order 66, refusing to fight the Jedi, and were subsequently rounded up to be dealt with. The problem with this was that many troops who were loyal to the Empire, like me, were also included in the roundups simply because of their clone vat lot numbers. A small group of us escaped under the leadership of Kal Skirata, the Mandalorian trainer of the Commandos He wanted to find the serum and use it as leverage for more money from the Empire. Working together, we managed to find the Kaminoans and their age-reversion serum. Kal administered it to everyone in our group. He had to know that it worked.

For some, the changes were immediate. They began vomiting, followed by violent, bone-snapping seizures and then death. Those of us that didn't exhibit any of the symptoms were lucky, although we still live with the constant unknown of what might yet happen to us as a result of that inoculation. Those remaining made it safely away, only to have bounty hunters, under orders from the Emperor to locate the serum, pursue us. Most of us escaped a second capture. Kal was not so fortunate.

He was captured, encased in carbonite, returned to Coruscant and placed in the Emperor's prisoner garden." Holder saw the expressions on the faces around the room, "Yeah, that's right, the Emperor has a garden of prisoners sealed in carbonite slabs which he visits often. These prisoners had no hope of ever being released, and were therefore used as . . . ghoulishly artistic reminders of the futility of fighting against the absolute power of the Empire.

Knowing that we could never go back into the mainstream clone population again, and not sure of how we might have seriously altered ourselves, we intercepted a transmission and assumed a troop assignment to locate here and oversee the closing of the Pit. The Outer Rim became the best choice in case something was ever to go wrong with us.

As part of the protocols for closing the coring project down, Slicer, Torch, Jumper and I were removing some survey equipment in the canyons of the Jundlad Wastes. That location had been scouted initially for the presence of the specific ore that was needed. The original crew didn't want to have to locate the dig site operations on this side of the planet if it wasn't absolutely necessary. They knew the locals would all but lynch them if they did, but several small readings had been picked up on the scanners when the initial sweeps were made. Between the Raider and Jawa populations here, they would have been lucky to keep the machinery in one piece and running to get the job done."

0600 interjected, "Who are Slicer, Torch and Jumper?"

"They are, I mean were, some of the members of my team. Being clones, we were all given names that best embodied our jobs and abilities. Slicer was a great systems hacker. Torch . . . well you get the idea. I was given the name HOLDER because I was the Holder of information, details and secrets, about the mission and about the men I served with.

We were breaking down the equipment and loading it up when it happened. It was late afternoon, and the suns had been damn hot that day. We were on the last ridge of hills before the Dune Sea. Jumper happened to notice a small ship that had set down in the sand at its edge. The ships' canopy had been left open and whoever had been inside had left recently. My helmet scanners were still able to pick up mild thermal readings from the engines. We finished loading our gear and carefully trailed down the cliff and around into the canyon, so as not to be detected.

As we came closer, the ship's class and markings clearly identified it as a Jedi Starfighter. I immediately called for backup on my helmet comm as we moved in closer. Others from the second and third survey groups quickly convened at our survey site and made their way down to where we were. As the others joined us, we fanned out to try and locate the pilot. With all the Temple Knights that had been killed across the galaxy, it was possible it wasn't a Jedi, but rather someone who had assumed ownership under questionable circumstances. We had made our way up into the hills when we saw a cloaked figure hurrying toward the ship.

The reinforcements, who were closer to the sandy bottom of the hill, approached him issuing orders to halt. The figure turned suddenly, extending his arm toward them, violently throwing the troopers back with an invisible push. Immediately we knew we were dealing with a Force-sensitive at the very least, and judging by his cloaks, most likely a fully trained Jedi Knight.

We all opened fire on him as he turned, again running toward his ship. Any doubts as to who the pilot was were wiped away when the Jedi drew his blue-bladed lightsaber with lightning reflexes to block the deadly bolts as he ran. He did so without so much as looking back, deflecting the first round of incoming blaster fire away, taking down two of our troops in the process. The winds, which had been gusting all afternoon, began to pick up strength considerably, blowing the sand across the ground in a fine haze, and the Jedi's robes as he settled into a comfortable, centered stance.

More blaster fire erupted, which he again deflected. As I ran down the rocky hillside, adrenaline was pounding through me as I rushed to engage the fugitive Knight. I reached to my belt and drew my own hilt, igniting the crimson blade of a Jedi Hunter's lightsaber. As I drew, three others also ignited their blades as they fired on him again. The others in my group and several in the support groups failed to draw or advance.

As he fluidly whirled, sweeping his sword in wide, circling arcs and deflecting the blaster fire, his blade sizzled and crackled, vaporizing the flying sand in small hissing sparks along its entire length. The expression I saw on his face clearly showed that he had not anticipated the emergence of our blades into the mix of the fight. I pulled off my helmet as I ran and threw myself at the Jedi. He caught my blade on his and rolled it away, thrusting me away with a strong Force-push as he made another wide arc deflecting yet more blaster fire.

The other Commandos with swords advanced, pulled off their helmets and jumped into the fight as they circled around him. I had regained my feet and re-joined the fight, my blade flashing and sparking as it made contact with his, only to find that the strength behind his blade was amazing. Obi-Wan Kenobi was now moving at blurred speeds, rolling and parrying every slice and chop we dished out when suddenly more blaster fire erupted, taking off the armored sword arm of the trooper next to me!

As he fell to the sand screaming, I whirled around to see the other troops, my squad-mates included, firing on us. A bolt sizzled past my ear, and I dove into the sand and rolled behind a sizeable rock as more bolts streaked by. The Jedi waved his free hand, using the Force to pick up and hurl several boulders toward the troops before he realized they were fighting on his side. Even with what was left of the newfound support he was surrounded.

I grabbed my blaster and squeezed off several shots, taking out the traitorous troops from the support survey teams. I couldn't believe troops from my own unit were now fighting against me and alongside the Jedi. One of the other Imperial swordsmen drew back his arm, crouched and hurled his lightsaber end over end through the air, slicing through Jumper's midsection and decapitating Torch. Slicer jumped behind a rock as the thrown lightsaber fell to the sand just short of him and switched off. I dove out from behind my rock reaching for the saber hilt as Slicer also crawled out to retrieve it.

My hand closed around it, and I pulled my own red blade up sharply, bisecting Slicer's E-11. He fell back away from me as I rolled to a stance and glaring at him, turned and threw the sword hilt back to its owner. I lowered my blade to Slicer's throat and ripped the lightsaber from his belt, clipping it on my own, "You don't deserve to carry this!"

It was now three against one, and Slicer had been removed from the equation. The others continued to aggressively attack, wearing the Jedi down a bit in the extreme heat until one of the others was able to squarely land a kick to his face as the others engaged him. Two troopers then brought their swords down hard across the Jedi's, knocking it from his grip and sending it flying away into the sand. A trooper quickly planted his foot on top of it to keep it from being recalled to the Knight's hand.

Another trooper slashed at Obi-Wan, but he jumped up and away, tucking into a roll that landed him on his feet. Unfortunately it landed him squarely in the path of another kick to the chest which sent him reeling backward until he stumbled and fell into the sand, rolling over onto his belly.

The wind was blowing furiously now. He lifted his head from the sand, his hair whipping crazily as he clenched his teeth and lifted both hands, fingers spread wide, parallel to the ground. As the wailing wind rose to a fever pitch, he opened his mouth in a silent scream. The sound was sucked up by the roaring wind, as he drew on every ounce of strength he had, summoning the Force within him and within the landscape around him as he heard the instructions from an old lesson echoing from Masters Yoda and Qui Gon, "Even between the land and the ship."

I felt an electric energy wash over me as every grain of sand within a 300 meter radius of Obi-Wan was suddenly hurled upward by the Force into the howling wind, resulting in a blinding sandstorm of cover. He rolled away as the screaming winds carried the sand in a swirling, Force-induced vortex. We were all instantly blinded as the flying sand bit into the exposed skin of our faces. We had taken off our helmets to fight, and had lost our vision as a result. He pulled his hood over his head and reached out again with the Force, throwing aside the trooper that stood on his lightsaber as it was pulled to his hand. As soon as it landed in his palm, he stood and made his way through the blinding sandstorm to his ship.

Then, through the swirling sand I heard more blaster fire. Slicer had made his way to one of the other dead troopers and taken their sidearm. Using his helmet's thermal imaging, he dropped the other Jedi Hunters one by one as he watched the heat signature of the Jedi Starfighter climb into the sky. I could hear several shots burning past me until one struck the lightsaber in my hand. I dropped it and fell backward to the ground as Slicer came to stand over me.

Suddenly, the sand dropped out of the wind back to the ground. The Jedi was gone. Slicer had his blaster trained on me as he cuffed my hands. He loaded me into our transport and took me back to the dig site. I had spared his life, and beside me, he was the last Commando left on the planet and nervous about what to do with me. When he got me back there, he took me down to the freezing facility and unceremoniously locked me in a small chamber and sealed me in carbonite to buy himself some time to think. He must have left the planet or been killed, and I was left behind, forgotten.

I'm glad someone finally got Obi-Wan Kenobi. I just wish things had been different, and it had been me when I had the chance. Most of my memories are still kind of fuzzy, but that one is indelibly etched in my mind."

Holder looked around the room as he finished his story, "I'm a little tired now. I'm going to try to sleep some."

Everyone moved away from his bunk silently and headed out to the Command Center, closing the door.

Etz was amazed, "That's a hell of a story. Twenty years gone, encased in carbonite by his own squad-mate."

Rogue nodded his head in agreement, "It's some story all right . . . if it's true. We have no proof that any of that happened. He could just as easily have been the traitor."

Falker nodded his head agreeing, "We may need to check the dig site for some supporting evidence. He might be the most loyal trooper in the Empire, and a Jedi Hunter. Then again, he might not."

Rogue responded, "I think a trip to the dig site is definitely in order. Until we have more to corroborate his story, let's keep an eye on Holder. Deckard, keep working on that 'droid, it may yield some information on this as well."

*

The late afternoon suns were slowly easing toward the sandy horizon and the barracks were buzzing with activity in preparation for the mission to the Dig Site. Ddraig, Etz and 4120 had gone ahead with their gear to bay 98 to prep the shuttle for the flight. It was decided that Felth and I would stay behind with Holder to maintain a presence. Felth was being left to take over the night's patrol and I was to focus on the 'droid, whose repair had just jumped in importance. Everything we had been told indicated that the dig site was on the far side of the planet, but no one knew exactly where. I looked up from the motor controller I was wiring, "We can ask Nadon, he mentioned the site to me."

Rogue shook his head as he hurried past with an armful of rifles, "He said he'd heard of it, not that he'd been there. We need someone with firsthand knowledge." Topolev sidestepped Rogue and then walked past me, as he slung his gearbag over his shoulder, "BoShek knows where it is. He's been salvaging mining machinery from the site and selling it."

Falker looked up as he continued packing his own gearbag, "True, but BoShek is still delivering the latest shipment of those parts to Bespin, I just checked the signal on his locater this morning." Rogue reappeared, "We can just slip into orbit and look for the site if necessary. If it's as big as everyone keeps saying it is, we'll be able to see it from there, but I would rather have someone with us who has been there before."

Felth yelled in from the Command Center, his face remaining glued to the holo-data port, "Correction. BoShek is currently on his approach glide path, inbound from Bespin, and was just cleared to set down in bay 67. He must have jumped just after you checked him last, Falker."

Rogue nodded, "Great work, Felth. Blade, Danz, go give him a nice welcome home and impress upon him our need for a guide on this mission. The Empire will compensate him if he needs an incentive. We'll bring your gear." They nodded, pulled on their buckets and hurried off toward the spaceport. He watched them go, talking to himself, "Yeah. He's been there. That'll help a lot."

He glanced once more around the room, bucket in hand, making sure he had everything he needed. "It's time to go. Topolev, grab a case of rations and we'll eat on the way." Topolev disappeared into the rear storage room, grabbed a casepack of rations and dropped it into his bag as he muttered under his breath, "I hate these dried up things."

Rogue had moved into the Command Center and opened the main door to the street. The sunslight was now a fluid orange, washing over the rounded domes and streets of Mos Eisley. He stepped out, and the others followed behind. I stepped out and watched them walk off down the street as I fought once more to remember where I had heard Rogue's accent before, but it wasn't coming to mind. The black trooper outlines, silhouetted against the intense amber sunset, cast long shadows in the sandy roadway as they headed for bay 98.

I stepped back inside. It would soon be time to meet Nadon.

The _**Infinity's**_ engines were winding down as Blade and Danz stepped off the stairs onto the sandy floor of bay 67. The outer hatch released and opened slowly as the bo0arding ramp lowered. Slight creaks and groans echoed off the bare walls of the stark bay as the ship's weight settled on its' landing pads. Moments later, BoShek ambled down the boarding ramp in his black pressure suit and helmet, pulling off his gloves. He reached up, releasing a small handle under the front of the head dome. The locking ring slipped sideways with a slight release of pressure as he lifted the helmet off. He caught sight of the waiting troopers and breathed in the fresh air as he motioned with an extended thumb over his shoulder, "Gotta get that atmospheric generator fixed one of these days. I hate the stale smell in this thing", and he lowered the helmet to his left side. "What can I do for you this time?"

Danz stepped forward, "We have a need to visit the Dig Site, and a need for you to lead us there and through it. We can make it worth your while, maybe enough for your atmospheric generator." The spacer rolled his eyes skyward thinking of the stale smell of his helmet, and that he could either help willingly and get paid, or pass and end up dead. Blade moved a bit closer, rifle held ready. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his tired face as he exhaled, "Yeah, I can do that. I did just get in from a long trip, though. Do I have time to stop in the Cantina for a drink first?"

"Not this time." said Blade, moving closer to BoShek, "We're leaving now. Grab what you need from inside and lets go. The others should be at the shuttle by now and ready to go." The exhausted spacer turned and walked wearily back into the ship, setting his helmet down and checking the erg charge level on his blaster clip.

I watched as Felth stood up from the holonet port, grabbed his helmet and prepared for his patrol of the spaceport. On his own, it would take him most of the night to make the rounds. As I watched him from my bunk, Holder sat straight up in his and let out a howling scream, "My legs area cramping! Deckard, Help!"

I scrambled for the medi-pak, knowing that hibernation sickness cramps could rip the muscles right off the bone if not treated immediately. The lid on the medi-pak flew open and I grabbed the Injector Gun, shoving a muscle relaxant cartridge in as I ran back to his bunk and pulled away the blankets. He was thrashing around; his eyes squeezed shut as he winced in agony. I saw the muscles in his legs rolling and jumping as they spasmed uncontrollably.

With the muzzle pressed firmly against the contorting thigh muscle, I squeezed the trigger, injecting the medicine into his leg. As I did, Felth stepped through the doorway to watch. I shot him again in the other thigh and waited for him to respond. Slowly the tensed, churning muscles relaxed and the cramps subsided. Felth pulled his bucket on as I slipped a tracking chip from a belt pouch and walked over to him, "Hold on, your pack is loose."

He stood still as I grabbed the pack and pressed the small transmitter into the foam filter of his air intake as I adjusted the pack strap for him. I slapped him on the bucket when I had finished, and he headed out the door. I pulled a small device from my belt and switched it on. A small blip appeared, moving away from the center point I had calibrated as headquarters. As long as Felth wasn't at that center point, I was OK.

I went back in to check on Holder. The cramps had stopped, but his legs were aching from the damage that had been done. I reached into the medi-pak and grabbed a tranquilizer insert pack and pressed it into the gun. "This'll help you rest more comfortably" I said as I injected the medicine into his thigh. I covered him with the blankets and he settled down as the medicine flowed through his bloodstream, calming him. I walked over to put the injector back in the medi-pak, whispering to myself, "And it will buy me some uninterrupted time to do some searching."

As I walked through the command center toward the front door, I happened to see the tail end of a holonet message being sent from Felth's account. It was coded to "Base One" and "Skywalker". Why would Felth be sending anything to someone named Skywalker? That was the farmboy, Luke's name. I looked back to the monitor, but the message was gone. Maybe it had been _about _Skywalker and not _to_ Skywalker. I wasn't entirely convinced, and I had a very bad feeling about it as I pulled on my bucket and headed out to the street. I turned down the alley and headed toward the rear courtyard to meet Nadon.

As I approached the end of the narrow passage, I saw our shuttle lifting away from the spaceport. Now to test my theory.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 – The Dig Site**

The slight rattle of the air currents across the wide wings subsided as the shuttle passed out of the atmosphere into orbit. BoShek was seated in the navigator's seat beside 0600, who was piloting. The blue-purple of the late afternoon sky transitioned to the black of space as they continued to ascend.

He wondered to himself what these troops were looking for and how they thought he might be able to help. He was tired. His eyelids closed over burning eyes. Not only did he deliver the parts to Bespin, but he was asked by the mine administrator to install the parts into another unit he had delivered some time before. His arms ached, his head hurt, he was hungry and had planned for a much better use of his time at a Sabacc table in Chalmun's.

Now far beneath them, the surface of Tatooine slipped by as the shuttle accelerated toward the far side. 0600 turned to him, "Let me know when you think we're close to the location." The images of food, drinks and Sabacc evaporated as he opened his eyes, "I don't think you're going to need me to find it. I know Rogue was upset that I didn't know the exact coordinates, but I never use them. Anyone could find this place from up here." He watched as the rocky Jundland Wastes disappeared beyond the horizon and the surface grew dark. They flew on over the darkness until he spoke again, "You should be able to see it soon. It's not precisely on the exact opposite side." His voice trailed off as the shadowy recess became visible like a huge stain on the surface below.

0600 switched his comm, "Rogue, we have a visual. This thing is bigger than we thought." As he released the comm, he leaned forward to get a better view over the instrument cluster as BoShek commented, "The pit itself is gargantuan. The base of operations that I think you might be looking for is a complex on the Western side. See that depressed ring around the crater?"

0600 nodded. "That's where the fools undercut too far and the overhanging rock began to collapse. It's very unstable. Most of the equipment I salvage is found way down in the bowels of that hole. I can't get loaded and get out fast enough." 0600 nodded his agreement as he pushed forward on the controls beginning their descent, "I can understand why."

Nadon slouched in the navigator's chair beside me, staring at the instrument panel before us for any indication of a match for my 'vaporator motor signature. So far, there had been no such indication. He stretched his leg out and back and flexed his long fingers on the armrest. We had been flying for several hours now, methodically and painstakingly overlapping our sweeps of the whole expanse of the Jundland Wastes and surrounding mountains. We had started at points closest to Mos Eisley and worked our way out, widening the search area as we made our way toward the Dune Sea to encompass it all.

I had tested the sweep sensitivity over the 'vaporators at Nadon's home in the hills outside the city with success, locating them with ease. It would work, the instruments were working fine, there was simply not a match out here yet.

The Ithorian suddenly spoke, shattering the relative silence of the cockpit with his slow words, "In my experience, that for which we search most earnestly, is that which eludes us most skillfully."

I continued watching out the front port, "That definitely seems to be the case so far, but I think if I'm ever going to find General Kenobi's home, this is my best chance of ever doing so." I reached for the handheld locater lying on the panel before me, tilting the screen toward me. The blip was still near the outer fringes. "Felth is still patrolling the city. We have a little more time before dawn, at which time he'll be returning to headquarters. We have to be back before that happens." Nadon nodded, his eyes blinking slowly.

As we continued on into the darkness, I wondered what was happening on the far side of Tatooine, and hoping the others were faring better than we were in their search for information. Holder's story could either be absolute truth or Gundaark droppings. We needed something to put our minds at ease about him and how to deal with him once he recovered. We had to be able to trust him with our lives, to watch our backs. We had to know for sure, there could be no question. I closed my eyes and stretched a bit. The little astromech was almost ready for another power-up attempt. A few days and it would be ready. The Sentinel continued on, flying into the darkness above the gently blowing sands of the cool and deceptively serene Tatooine night.

The shuttle's flight path had taken the others away from the spaceport traffic that surrounded Mos Eisley and off in the same direction as the planetary rotation. As they drew closer to the surface, 0600 realized that by doing so, they had skipped over the Tatooine night. His hands moved over the instruments making small course adjustments, "Great. Work all day, take off and fly right into another day. I hope everybody in the back had the sense to shut their eyes, 'cause it looks like dawn just broke. It's a new day already." BoShek nodded somewhat as he drifted in and out of the haze of subconsciousness.

The ship knifed through the air as 0600 pulled back on several control arms and leveled out, skimming across the surface. BoShek sat up and forward, rubbing his eyes and face, fighting back the fatigue as the daylight now streamed in through the sloping front port, "One part of this rock looks pretty much like another; sand, rocks, stony mountains . . . all of it parched and dead."

Below in the cargo area, Rogue unclipped from his jump seat and stepped up behind them to get a better look at where they were. The rolling, sandy edges of the Dune Sea gave way to massive stone ridges and jagged spires thrust up from beneath the surface. Strange rock formations slipped by beneath the Lambda class shuttle as they drew closer to the dig site.

With his eyes remaining focused through the transparisteel on the rugged landscape ahead, he directed a question to BoShek, "How much further is it?" The spacer took a good look at the familiar landscape and estimated roughly in his head, "Ten minutes maybe?" Rogue nodded and headed back down to prep the others for their arrival.

The blip that showed me where Felth was had begun to move back toward the center point. "Looks like it's time to head back. Felth is finishing his perimeter patrol and heading back to base through the spaceport. He'll probably . . ."

It was at that moment while I was speaking that one of the panel monitor's suddenly emitted a tone and data began scrolling down the screen as it searched to cross-match the signal it had picked up. Nadon sat up in his chair and watched with keen eyes as the data continued to scroll. Then, the data stream halted for a second, and a final flashing status line was displayed:

**Class III Evaporative Condenser Unit**

**Model: Unknown**

**Motor Frequency: MATCHED**

**Motor Type: SM999**

**Malfunctions Noted: Valve Adjuster (Collection Tank is Full)**

He looked up at me, "It looks as if the elusive has just been uncovered. Well done, boy. Well done." I recorded the location of the signal and switched off the sensors, "Now we know where it is, but we'll have to come back. Felth is almost done with his patrol, we have no time to spare. This will have to wait until we have more time to spend." He shook his large head in agreement as I banked the ship into a curving turn and headed back to the city.

The air, heated by the early morning suns, was already oppressive and washed over the disembarking troops as they descended the boarding ramp and out from the cool shadows of the ship. They stepped off to the drawn, cracked ground outside, rifles at the ready, and stopped momentarily, looking around to get their bearings and assess the surroundings. Like BoShek had said, it was pretty much like every other part of this rock they had seen. Stretching out before them, leading away through a light sandy haze to a jagged, jutting range of hills was a flat, dry expanse of ground.

Their backpack units silently cycled on with mild vibrations they all felt in the shoulder straps. Thermal body gloves switched into cooling mode, and as the group turned away from the hills and passed beneath the sloped nose of the shuttle, the headquarters for the dig site came into view.

The only sound to break the dead calm was that of the occasional wind gust blowing between the barrels of the wing-mounted guns overhead, and around the extended flaps of the landing gear. It also whipped through and around the now-silent towers, buildings and equipment of the dig site that had been left behind. A swarm of Skettos, disturbed by the appearance of the shuttle, was now settling back to the peaks of the stony ridges to watch the arrival of the newcomers.

As large as this facility before them was, it was dwarfed by the enormous pit that lay behind it to the East. In the distance, the ground seemed to break and angle steeply down toward the crater. This was the very precarious overhang that BoShek had mentioned. Beyond the rim, the dark, gaping hole stretched out as far as the eye could see toward the distant horizon.

BoShek unzipped the seal on several diagonal vent openings across the front of his suit and one under each of his arms as he stepped over to Rogue with sweat forming on his brow, "C'mon, let's go. The main office complex is over there" he said, pointing. He began walking toward the abandoned remains of the Imperial facility, with the assembly of ten troopers falling into step behind him. Danz glanced down and out the lower opening of his helmet at the arid ground beneath his boots as they walked, shaking his head and thinking about his childhood home on the ocean-covered world of Bestine IV.

The tired, worn buildings of the site now towered above them, stretching up into the sky. The smell of machinery and lubricants was almost as heavy as the silent presence they felt here. They could nearly hear the echoes of the silenced voices and activity as they continued down the man-made canyon of buildings. Rubble and broken pieces of that distant past were now strewn everywhere.

The facility had clearly been worked to the limits for many years, coring out huge volumes of ore to supply secret Imperial construction sites with the raw materials to build bases, ships and Tarkin's Death Star for the Emperor. Tarkin was a shrewd one. He had undoubtedly seen to it that the coring project operated outside the scope of the Mining Guild, although out here on the fringes of explored space, no one would have pressed the issue anyway. They continued on until BoShek stepped up to a large bay door and gave it a hefty shove with his shoulder, moving it aside and entering into the large room beyond. All filed through after him into a deep, but narrow warehouse-style room. Light filtered through milky, opaque plates of worn transparisteel and far overhead was an arched ceiling.

Their guide walked past a huge, rusting hulk of a machine of some unknown type on their left as he moved toward the back of the room. "The metals of this equipment act like a condenser plate", he said as he walked past not bothering to stop or look back, "They heat up during the day and cool off at night, forming moisture, which in turn causes rust. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to continue salvaging here. The rust is getting worse and worse all the time." Falker ran his gloved hand over the rusty machine as he passed by.

BoShek continued on to an opening in the wall just beyond. He switched on the overhead illuminators which shed dim light down a long hallway. "We're not far now. The offices are down here", he said as he continued along. "These lights are powered by the suns. Some of the illuminators are burned out, but there's light in most places." The group walked in silence, save the clatter of their boots and the clapping of armor plates. After several minutes of walking on a gentle, downward slope, they came to a massive set of thick, heavy blast doors, which thankfully had been left open.

Etz, who was in the rear of the group with Blade, noticed a slight flicker in the light. He glanced back down the hall behind them and thought he saw a black shape disappearing to one side of the distant doorway. He dismissed it almost immediately; certain it was a shadow, then looked back once more to settle the doubt that had immediately set in.

The hallway finally opened into a larger room. A hovering repulsor sled sat beneath the overhead illuminator in the center of the room.

"This is the main office, or what's left of it" said BoShek, spreading out his arms to show off the space. "Most things were probably stripped when the dig was shut down, but this is it." The troops spread out and began searching for anything that linked Holder to this site as Rogue spoke to the spacer, "Where is the carbon-freezing chamber?"

BoShek turned around to face him, "That's down a few levels. Let's make sure you're done here, and then we can move on and head down there."

Rogue nodded and stepped away to join the search as BoShek turned to cautiously peer back down the hallway, one hand on his blaster.

Felth walked into the dim bunkroom and pulled off his helmet. Holder was in his bunk asleep, and the lifeless droid sat silently beside mine with its head off. He dropped his bucket and blaster on a bunk and slipped his pack off, wondering where I was, "Deckard?"

There was no response from the dark, only silence.

"Where is he?" he thought. "He's supposed to be working on the 'droid and watching Holder."

In a gut-wrenching moment of startled realization, he briskly walked back into the command center and flipped on the holo-port to check the log. His outbound message was there.

**TO:**** BASE ONE, SKYWALKER**.

Perspiration suddenly dampened his skin as he realized his error. Damn. He had forgotten to wait for it to send and then erase it. Suddenly, all sorts of paranoid thoughts began to race through Felth's mind. Had Deckard figured him out? He was usually more than careful to cover his tracks, how could he have been so careless this time? He made a mental note to begin setting up a contingency plan for escape in case he should be discovered.

When news of the Death Star's destruction had finally reached their small group, he secretly cheered inside, hoping that the data he passed to Dodonna had helped in some way. His new position as Information Officer definitely opened doors for allowing him more uninterrupted holonet time, but he had an uneasy feel about his fellow troopers all of a sudden.

He was about to check to see if the log had been accessed when the sound of the mechanical freight lift initiated in the storage room. He quickly jogged through the bunk room and stuck his head through the door just in time to see the rising platform come to a stop at the ground level with me on it, "All done with your rounds?" I asked, juggling several electronic parts in my hands.

"What were you doing down there?" he asked, looking in the direction of the lower level, "I thought the 'droid was already almost prepped for another test run?"

I stepped off the platform and walked past him toward my bunk, laying the parts out, "It is almost ready. These are going to be used to make a surge suppressing unit so that what happened last time won't happen again. You OK, Felth? Did something happen on your patrol?"

He calmed a bit, "A few unruly drunks over at the _**Dowager Queen**_, Jawas loitering in several of the bay pits looking for parts, nothing too far out of ordinary for this scum-hole I would say."

"That's a really bizarre place. I ran into the manager when I was out looking for parts the other day and asked him about it. He says it was a colony ship from Bestine IV that crash-landed here a hundred years ago. There are sections of the ship scattered all over this area. Some of the smaller pieces have become makeshift shelters for the homeless, but the surviving skeleton of the main section became the basis for the hotel. I learn more and more about this place every day. You should get out some and mingle, away from that holo-net port sometime."

He watched as I began to work, "Interesting. Yeah. I'll have to do that." He said as he walked back into the command center. I began my work on the new parts, pretending not to notice what he was doing. He went straight to the holo-net console and deleted the log entry. Then he re-emerged into the bunk room pulling off his armor plates and closing the transparisteel portals, darkening the room as he spoke, "I'm sure you were able to rest some with Holder sleeping. I'm gonna catch a little sleep, do you mind working on that somewhere else where there's light?"

I looked over at him across the dim room, "Sure, I can work down in the cache." I gathered up my parts and disappeared into the back room. Felth finished slipping off his gear, kicked off his boots and rolled into his bunk. He had to be more careful, there was too much at stake now, for him and the Alliance. Uneasily he closed his eyes as he adjusted his aching feet.

The whine of the lift mechanism hummed for a few seconds and the platform vibrated under my boots until I reached the bottom. I walked through the doorway into the dim room, setting the electronics down on the tech bench as I crossed the floor to the bay. I moved 'round behind the troop transport and secured the lock on the upper doors.

That had been too close. I had just made it in before Felth came through the front door. I jumped up on the tailboard of the transport and grabbed hold of a fine, dangling cord that ran down from an overhead pipe. I whipped it to free the grappling hook on the other end that was caught on the pipe. It released and fell away, dropping into my waiting hands, cord trailing behind it.

I glanced up to the closed doors in the ceiling as I attached the cord to my belt and depressed the re-coil button. The line quickly was wound up on the take-up reel in the belt compartment. I finished the task by replacing the folded tines of the hook in its pouch. I would have to be more careful next time. Coming in that way wasn't easy! The engines on the Sentinel above the doors in the rear courtyard should be cool by the time Felth woke up.

I hopped off the tailboard and headed back toward the tech bench to get to work. The fabricated story of the surge suppressing unit wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Garindan moved closer, into a better position in the narrow alley beside our headquarters, as Nadon looked slowly around, and then climbed into his speeder and drove away, heading for home. He glanced momentarily back at the Sentinel, listening to the creaking of the cooling engines, then turned back to watch the Ithorian Arborist disappear into the gathering morning crowd on the streets.

He unwrapped a small stick of Glitterstim which instantly began to sparkle a brilliant blue in his hands as it came in contact with the light. He slipped it in his mouth and began to chew it, feeling the old familiar burn and tingling in his cheeks and the back of his throat. He swallowed and closed the sensitive eyes beneath his protective goggles feeling the warmth move down into his belly. His body relaxed as he slipped back into the shadows.

"There's nothing here. We've been over this room three times now" said Falker as he sat down on the repulsor sled. "He's right. We're wasting our time now." said 0600. Topolev leaned his rifle against the wall, hung his bucket over the exposed butt-end of his holstered E-11 and ripped open a packaged ration bar. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a bite as Etz spoke up, "You eating another one of those?"

Topolev chewed, swallowed part of his mouthful and continued chewing on the rest as he replied, "Yeah, because they're _**THAT GOOD**_. No. Trust me; I held off as long as I could, I HATE these things. I had to live off them for awhile during my tour on Kashyyyk. They'll keep you alive, but the taste." He shuddered. "I'd be happy to never eat these things ever again. When we get back, I'm getting some real food."

Falker chuckled as the others walked over to them. BoShek was still eyeing the hallway they entered from, "If you've finished your search here. Let's head on down to where the carbon freezing chamber is." He turned back to face Rogue, who nodded his agreement, "Right. Let's move on!" Ddraig fell in behind BoShek as he exited the room through a broad doorway. The others followed.

They were led down another corridor, and eventually past a low, half-wall as their guide pressed on. Blade leaned over the wall to check out what was on the other side as they walked past. He stuck his head over and found himself peering down a rectangular shaft that bit deep into the surface of the planet. The outside walls were draped with descending flights of stairs almost as far as he could see. He quickly pulled his head back as BoShek stepped through an open archway to the top step and paused, turning to them, "Now . . . we go down."

Through the slot cut in the stone, Leia watched light rains fall softly across the lush green jungle. She sat quietly in the darkness on the stone sill, her long hair blowing in the cool, gentle breeze as she looked out over the ancient ceremonial grounds surrounding the Massassi temple.

She turned her gaze away from the opening and back to see the new rebel Commander, Luke Skywalker shifting position in the chair where he had fallen asleep. They had talked at length about how each of them had come to be where they were now, and how Luke had known Ben Kenobi his whole life, but had never really been around him for any of it.

He had confided in her, entrusted with her his longing to have known Ben sooner, and in turn to have learned more about his father and mother. His opportunity to discover details about his parents had slipped through his fingers with Ben's death. Just knowing that his father was a Jedi would have been enough to drive him on when he felt lowest, out working on 'vaporators. Ben had visited him at the homestead several times over the years, until once, when he came bearing a gift, Uncle Owen sent him away. Even after that happened, although he felt completely alone, he also remembered somehow feeling safe and watched over.

Although from drastically different childhood lives, he and Leia had both been thrown together by similar circumstances, both now orphaned and their homes lost. The lower lids of her deep brown eyes suddenly welled with tears that glistened in the dim light. When they could no longer be contained, tears fell, silently trailing down her stoic cheeks as she thought of her father and home on Alderaan, now gone. So much had been lost.

The pain increased, rising in her chest and throat as her stomach quivered. Her eyes closed forcing the next wave of tears over the edge and down her face as the wind caught her hair and she turned again to silently stare at the rain.

Luke moved slightly, shifting again in the chair, mumbling something about Ben. His eyes darted back and forth beneath closed lids as he watched images unfolding in his dreams.

The obscure layers of consciousness slipped elusively by as his dreams progressed, pulling him into deeper and deeper sleep. His disjointed dream-thoughts were now mingling with the energies of the light side of the Force and taking on more continuity and clarity. The spirit of Obi-Wan was closer than Luke could have ever imagined as images began appearing in his mind's eye. The murky dream-images became somewhat clearer now.

He was on Tatooine wearing a hooded cloak, walking atop a rocky ridge somewhere in the Jundland wastes. The view before him was an expansive one, out over the ridge at someone working on a condenser. The person working was leaning inside one of the control covers of a moisture 'vaporator with a box of tools behind him in the sand. The figure reached back one-handed toward the toolbox trying to grab a tool without pulling his head out of the machine. As Luke watched the figure grope blindly for the tool, several tools in the box rose up, hanging in midair, until one dropped to the sand and slid to within the reach of the mechanic. His fingers closed around the tool and he went back to work, none the wiser about what had just occurred.

Luke smiled, realizing that the Force must have moved the tools. Suddenly, his dream-state point of view shifted out of his hooded body and moved away, turning to look back at himself until he saw that it was not his own face that he saw staring back, it was Obi-Wan, grinning like a proud father. The dream-view then shifted back to the mechanic who pulled his head out of the machine and stood up, replacing a floppy hat and goggles on his head as he turned to walk to a nearby Treadwell 'droid and landspeeder. The mechanic was him! Obi-Wan HAD been watching him, and apparently he had been exhibiting Force-sensitive behavior, much to the delight of the old Jedi.

The image of the smiling Jedi began to darken as the old man's voice echoed in his ears, "Luke. Trust your feelings. Return to my home. From there you will be led along your way. You are not alone."

The voice drifted away as the dream vision faded into absolute blackness. His eyes opened and he sat motionless in the chair, feeling his slow breathing flow in and out. Leia was across the room, her back to him, and he heard the gentle sound of steady rain. He allowed himself to digest what he had just experienced. Had it been a dream? He knew in his heart he had to return to Tatooine. Leia wiped her face with her hands and rose silently,walking to the door. He remained still, and closed his eyes, feigning sleep, watching her in the darkness. She slipped out and closed the door behind.

He looked back to the window . . . to the rain and closed his eyes.

The troops had been descending the stone steps for some time when 4120 finally spoke up, "BoShek, how much deeper do we have to go before we reach the level with the carbon freezing chamber?"

The spacer stopped and turned back, looking up the steps to the trooper four back in line that had asked the question, "It's another seven levels. I know it's a long way, and normally we could have taken a lift to get there, but with the power plant offline, we have to walk it. The carbon freeze chamber was almost never used. It was only put here in case anything unusual and of interest to the Empire's scientists was discovered while digging. There's very little to find on this planet except rock and more rock. It's my guess that since it wasn't used all that often, it was placed down here in an out of the way location. We're almost there." He caught sight of motion further up on a higher level of the stairs, only for a moment, and then nothing. "Come on, let's get moving. It's not far."

He turned and continued down the twisting stairs.

Above them, a dark shape listened cautiously until it heard the troops begin moving downward once again. Only then did it continue its own downward descent.

Finally BoShek came to a side corridor that led away from the still-descending stairs. He stepped through it, across a short landing and down a single flight of stairs which spilled out into a long corridor. Bundles of sagging cables ran along the walls and ceiling and stretched out as far as the eye could see in both directions.

"This way" he said half under his breath as he turned sharply to the left, heading down the long corridor. The group continued on, passing intersecting corridors and continuing on straight until they arrived at a plate durasteel wall with a small hatch in it. The hatch had been left swung open, most likely by the last of the troops and dig operators as they left this place. Beyond, we could see yet another room with a door on the far side.

Our guide stepped up and through the hatch. Etz and Blade fell back, turning to look back down the hallway, watching their backs as the rest also proceeded through. When all others had gone, they turned and stepped through as well.

The others had already begun walking toward the door on the far side. Etz and Blade followed silently through the unremarkable room until the all came to the far wall and the closed door set into it.

BoShek stepped up close to it, rotated the durasteel wheel-handle and pushed it open with his shoulder. A harsh metal on metal squealing echoed off the stone walls as it rocked open.

He stepped through and switched on additional emergency lighting overhead, brightly illuminating the room. Everyone filed through, following him inside. "OK, we're here. Those things over there on the green support stands are the carbon freezing chambers."

Rogue and the others turned their attention to the small metallic chambers. He took his helmet off as he continued to stare, "I thought they would be much larger, if not take up an entire room. I've seen a few carbon freezing chambers over the years and they were ALL larger than these", he said as he stepped closer, noting the grates in the floor.

BoShek nodded, grinning a bit, "Yeah. Believe me, that's the only reason they're still here. They're so small I can't find anyone interested in buying them, otherwise I would have moved these things a long time ago."

0600 pulled off his helmet, "Let's start looking, you guys know the drill. Find anything that might link Holder to this place." The troops spread out in different directions going over every inch of the room. 1265 and Danz were inspecting a control area along one of the walls when Ddraig spoke up, breaking the silence, "I think I found something."

The others stopped their searching and walked over to where Ddraig had been looking. He was crouched down by a small set of durasteel shelves running along one of the walls adjacent to the chambers. Wires and hoses were draped across them, and in the center of the second shelf was a cylinder with several adjustment knobs set into the grip. It could only have been a lightsaber hilt. Ddraig reached in and pulled it out, holding it up to the light for everyone to see. Falker silently strained his neck to see over Topolev's shoulder.

Part of the handle near the emitter had a hole pierced all the way through the casing. Black scorch marks stained the otherwise shiny handle around the rough holes on both sides. He rolled the lightsaber over in his hands. As he rotated it, he could hear something tumbling inside the damaged casing and focusing cup.

He rolled the hilt around until a small object fell out of the blast hole to the floor. Ddraig retrieved it and held it up to the light overhead between his gloved fingertips. It was a crimson crystal. The kind found in a Sith Lord's sword, or that of a Jedi Hunter.

Ddraig turned to look up at Rogue, handing the lightsaber to him, "Looks like Holder's story holds up so far."

As he spoke, we all heard the clanging of metal on stone from outside the hatch. BoShek was standing beside it. He spun his head to look back the way we had come. His eyes widened a bit as he grabbed the hatch, quickly swinging it shut, "Damn."

"What is it?" asked Rogue.

The spacer was rapidly rotating the hatch wheel to lock down the door, then shot a glance over to Rogue, "We're not alone down here."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 – Trust and Escapes**

The smooth floor plate slammed shut as Chewbacca let go of the durasteel panel. He reached for the last plate and slid it into place, over the hidden compartments beneath which, at the moment, were packed full with cases of money, paid in full by the Rebel Alliance Government. He didn't agree with accepting money for the rescue of the Princess, but he new Solo needed the money to set things right with Jabba, if it wasn't already too late.

The Wook reached into his leather satchel as he walked toward the cockpit. He pulled out a small chain with two golden chance cubes dangling from it. He slipped through the narrow door, glancing back once to make sure he was alone. Then he moved between the co-pilot and pilot's chairs and reached up to reattach the chain to an overhead lever. "Chewie!" howled Solo, walking down the corridor toward him.

The Wook jumped and turned to look over his shoulder with a scowl at the Corellian pilot walking toward him and 'WOOFED' a response. "I thought we've been through this. No chance cubes in here. If you want them hanging over your bunk, be my guest, but not in here." Chewie bared his teeth slightly, but restrained from responding again, as he put them back in the bag at his hip. Solo raised his eyebrows in a scolding manner as the Wook pushed past him out into the ship.

The Wook walked off toward his bunk and Solo walked out past the holo chess table and main cargo area and wandered down the boarding ramp where he stopped and sat down, knees bent and his arms resting on them. To his right, technicians were working to install a new engine on a Y-wing fighter. He turned his head to the left and watched as several mech 'droids were screwing down new access panels along the fuselage of an X-wing that had been damaged in what was now being called the 'Battle of Yavin'.

'The Battle of Yavin', he thought to himself. A major Rebel offensive, and he had ended up smack in the center of it. How had he gotten himself here? He was looking straight ahead now, staring off into nothingness as he wondered how much the price was on his head. Jabba surely had bounty hunters looking for him by now. As soon as they were all safely away, he would settle his account with Jabba. His eyes focused on the here and now as across the hangar, the Princess entered with a small group of Rebel Commanders and Generals. She had amazing eyes. Wait! What was he thinking? Bria's death had really shaken him. He swore he wouldn't get that close again. His thoughts drifted back to that night on Tatooine . . .

_He had been sitting in the bar for hours; sipping drinks and watching the people come and go as he tried to figure out a way to get Jabba off his back. He had bought himself some time, but it would probably not be enough, unless his luck changed drastically. The Yavin Vassilika contest had taken a lot out of him and his first mate. Chewbacca had long since called it a night and returned to the 'Falcon. Dash Rendar had kicked back a few drinks with them, boasting about the Outrider and how he was still in good graces with the Hutt before also calling it as night, leaving Solo alone. _

_Wuher was now herding people toward the door, and he shot Han a glance. Solo nodded, downed what was left of his drink, and stood up, walking for the door. One of two Jawas in front of him tripped and fell on the steps. Han stepped on the hooded little creature and kept on moving out the door. He was on his way back to the spaceport, turning into the long hallway that led to the 'Falcon when Boba Fett stepped out of the shadows. Han's body shook as he sobered immediately, reaching for his blaster. "Take it easy, Solo. There's no price on your head . . . yet." A look of relief washed over the Corellian's face as he blinked in the moonlight, "If you're not after me, what are you doing?"_

_Fett stood silent for a moment, "I once made a promise to someone I was hunting, someone I almost captured onboard the Queen of the Empire. In my pursuit, I promised that if she died, I would get word to her father. I am many things, but I don't make promises lightly. Unfortunately, she got away and never had the chance to tell me who her father was." Han was looking confused now, "Who? Whose father?" _

_Fett exhaled lightly, "Bria Tharen is dead." _

_Han was stunned, and leaned against the wall for support as Fett grabbed his arms, holding him up with gloved hands. "How did it happen? When?"_

_Fett's helmet moved slightly as he spoke, "Two days ago. She and her group were killed on Toprawa by Stormtroopers as they stormed a holonet tower and transmitted stolen Imperial data." Solo noticed the many dents and scratches worn across the surface of the mandalorian helmet, now so close to his face. _

"_Solo, if there had been any other way I would have taken it. I didn't know who else to tell. I trust that you know how to reach her father?" Han shook his head slowly allowing the words to sink in. "Yeah. I'll get word to him."_

_Fett stabilized him against the wall, "Thank you." He turned to go, and then stopped, turning his helmet around to look at Solo, "I wouldn't keep the Hutt waiting for his money. You know how . . . irritable he can get." Han nodded as Fett walked away into the Tatooine night. Bria was dead._

He watched as Leia and her entourage inspected the repairs that were underway. He hadn't planned to get caught up in all of this. He still had to make a trip to Corellia to find Bria's father and let him know. He certainly didn't plan on a princess with brown eyes working herself into the equation.

"I saw one, I don't know if there are more" yelled BoShek as he held tight to the hatch wheel. "This is a medium duty blast door. It'll hold against fire, but it has no lock from the inside." As he finished his sentence, the door was pelted with blaster fire from the other side accompanied by high-pitched pings as the bolts were deflected away.

"Is there another way out of here? Maybe we can circle around behind them and take them out" said Rogue. BoShek nodded, "Over there, but it doesn't loop back.

Rogue resisted "We're not going to run from these guys, even if there are more of them, we're not . . ." BoShek cut him off quickly, "I'm not suggesting that we turn tail and run, but if there are more of these guys, and we stay put, we'll get pinned down here, there's only two ways in and out. Let's head down that way." They were all staring at him now. "I've seen what some of these pirates are capable of, and I for one don't want to be on the receiving end. I've run into some of these guys before. They're spacer pirates that hang out here; 'stim junkies most of them. Some have gotten lost in the mazes down here and gone mad trying to find their way out. There's no telling what they might do. Surviving to continue your search only makes you smart. This is not the place to have a stand. We need a place more to our advantage but we have to hurry!"

More blaster fire began banging against the hatch and leaving superheated,

orange ovals glowing on their side. BoShek pulled his knee away from the door as more searing rings appeared. The troops made their way through the doorway into the corridor beyond. Rogue tucked the lightsaber and crystal into the long pouch on his belt and buckled it shut. BoShek followed after the troops, closing the second hatch as sparks showered from the door on the opposite wall followed by a violent explosion that rocked the room. Loose rock and sand rained from the corridor ceiling as the shock waves rocked this lower level. They raced along the corridor past several robotic diggers still waiting to be switched on to complete their tasks.

In time, they could hear and feel cool rushing air and the tunnel opened up into a vast and noisy ventilation shaft. "There's no stairway on this end", yelled their guide, trying to be heard over the rushing air. "We'll have to climb out" he said, pointing up and showing the wall-mounted ladders. "We only need to go up one or two levels. Then we can get off the ladders and make our way back to the stairs."

"Start climbing" yelled Rogue.

"Hurry up, Blade." yelled 4120 from the top of the ladder, "This is the last one, Rogue. Let's get moving." The corridor was small and dark, but there was light coming from up ahead, and they wasted no time heading for it.

BoShek was in the lead, sprinting down the hall toward the light when a shadow cast from a crossing hallway revealed its source as Boba Fett stepped out into the middle of the corridor, leveled his blaster rifle at them and fired several shots.

The blaster bolts ripped past them, missing everyone. BoShek and Rogue had drawn their blasters and were preparing to fire on Fett when they heard cries from down the hall behind them. They turned to see several pirates dead on the floor of the dark hall. Fett raised the muzzle of his rifle, pointing it away from them as he checked a small handheld tracking device with a sweep display, "Come with me. Quickly! There's far too many of them down here." He turned and disappeared back down the hall he had emerged from.

All in the search party followed him down the passage. It was a long, narrow access tunnel with huge pipes running along the right wall, held back by large, vertical durasteel retainer beams. A small ventilation duct ran along the low ceiling with cables and another large pipe along the left.

BoShek was running down the passage directly behind the Bounty Hunter, "Fett, what are you doing here?" The man in the Mandalorian armor answered as he ran, "I'm looking for Solo. He skipped out on a debt to the Hutt. I warned him not to let it go unpaid too long. I've checked all the usual spots but haven't seen him or the Wookiee. Sometimes pirates hang out here when things heat up. We don't have much time. I set several charges around this site, and was going to blow this part of the dig. Hurry up, over here." He ran to the right, up a wide set of stone steps.

We raced beneath dozens of power cables strung over the arch and steps. When we reached the top, Fett turned a quick left and raced into a very dark, narrow hallway and up a set of steep steps.

We raced out of the arch at the top of the steps and found ourselves in a naturally formed crevasse in the rock of the surface. Fett checked the sensor in his hands, noting the blips that were following closer than he would have liked. We rounded a corner in the smooth cave tunnel and saw a beam of light streaming down from the surface, illuminating the cavern.

Blade watched our backs as we raced along, following the Bounty Hunter through twists and turns in the air-carved chambers on our way closer and closer to the light of day on the surface of this forsaken planet.

Fett barked at us as he ran out through an opening in the rock into the streaming, blinding sunslight, "We have to cross this access pit to another cavern on the far side. Once we get across, there is a set of stone stairs leading up to the surface." We were all standing at the edge of the bridge now. A suspended bridge spanning the dizzying height of an access pit that cut down into the surface parallel to the main pit.

"Let's go!" yelled 0600 as he charged out onto the swaying span. The others filed after him, trying not to look down. Fett held his position at the mouth of the cavern until all were on their way across the bridge.

He turned to run and the stone by his head exploded as a blaster bolt sheared through it, throwing small pieces into the air, showering him in sand and small rocks. He raised his rifle behind him as he ran and fired a burst round down the steps into the darkness without looking. The suspended span was shaking and rattling now as Fett took the last few steps on it before reaching the far side.

He stopped just short of the cavern and pulled out several more charges, attaching them to the connecting beams and supporting cables that were anchored against the stone. He keyed the timer to ten seconds and switched it on before turning to run into the cavern as a dozen pirates, from various worlds, raced out onto the bridge from the other side, blasters blazing at him.

Fett ran through the crevasse toward the steps as far behind, the charges began to blow.

The ground beneath him shook violently, pitching this way and that dropping more sand and stone on him. Above, he could see the last of the troopers stepping off at the surface. He threw himself into the air as his jetpack roared to life, the flames illuminating the narrow hallway in a deep amber glow as he was propelled up the stairwell.

He was almost to the top when the charges on the bridge supports went off, its force blowing sand and stones at incredible speeds on a concussive wall of air up through the corridor and steps, snuffing out the jets and hurling Fett headfirst into the sand on the surface near where we stood. The detonating explosives shredded the cables and the stone mounts supporting the bridge, which moaned and creaked as that end tumbled away from the pit wall and fell away into its depths, tumbling all the pirates off to fall to their deaths, blasters firing all the way down.

Fett rolled over to a crouch and stood as another shock wave rocked the ground beneath his feet, as a swarm of startled Skettos circled in the smoky skies nearby.

He steadied himself and picked up his rifle, "Come with me. My ship's this way."

The sand spray kicked up by the departing ship blasted across them all as Slave I lifted from the ground and rapidly accelerated away, climbing steeply through the glare from the twin suns heading for space. The roaring echoes of its engines bounced back several times from the nearby hills and the skettoes that had keenly watched us arrive scattered once again. The smoke from the burning dig site had begun to disperse, carried away by the now-gusting midday breezes.

Many of the sublevels of the site would now be caved in from the blasts, cutting off further exploration of the Carbon Freezing room and its surrounding facilities.

The men stood gathered in a small group, discussing Fett's search for Solo. The Corellian must have cost the Hutt a fair amount for him to dispatch multiple bounty hunters to hunt him down. IG-88, Dengar Roth, Bossk and Fett were all well known for their tracking and hunting abilities.

Fett now knew that Solo had helped rescue Princess Leia Organa from the Death Star before its obliteration, and that he may very well be concealing his whereabouts by lying low with the Alliance. It became apparent to the troops that not only were the old man and the boy of interest in this whirlwind they had stepped into; Solo now shared the spotlight with them. Most likely a spotlight the Corellian and the Wookiee had spent years skirting.

Their guide lay back prone on the boarding ramp with his eyes shut, catching a small nap in his black pressure suit. While the exchange between the troopers and Fett regarding Solo and the 'Falcon had been of considerable assistance to the bounty hunter, all BoShek could think about was stealing a few moments of sleep. He breathed in the hot air as he rolled their conversation over in his mind. Solo was good. Not that Fett wasn't, but from what BoShek knew of the Corellian pilot, his entire life had been spent making sure he was at least one step ahead.

Rogue, leaning against one of the shuttle's landing gear flaps, pulled the damaged lightsaber hilt from his belt pouch and rolled it over in his hands; his gloved fingertip tracing the blackened hole that pierced it as he listened to the others talk. He dropped the saber back in the pouch and closed it as he walked to the ramp, kicking the sole of BoShek's boot, "Let's head back to base. I think we've found all we can here."

He was walking up into the ship as the others stopped talking and turned their heads as 0600 yelled out to his friend, "I think it would be worth our time to have Holder take us to the place where he and the others encountered the Jedi. There may still be artifacts there to help us corroborate his story."

Rogue paused a moment, nodded and disappeared into the ship.

I secured the pulse suppression unit inside the body cavity of the little astromech and attached the power leads to the main batteries. The little 'droid stood lifeless in the sand of the rear courtyard, at the rear of the Sentinel ship. It was now late afternoon and as I secured the domed head onto the body of the little 'droid, Holder emerged from the narrow alleyway, holding onto the walls for support, "You up for some company?"

I rose from my kneeling crouch and walked over to him, helping him to the loading dock where he could sit down. "You look like you're feeling better. You've been out of it since I gave you the sedative."

"Yeah, the muscles spasms and cramping have stopped for now, thanks. How's it coming with my 'droid?"

"Your 'droid?", I said looking him in the eye.

He nodded his head slowly; eyes squinting in the bright light, "Yeah, he was mine. What was wrong with him? I always kept him in great shape." I stepped back, allowing Holder a complete view of the little 'droid, "It looks like there was some kind of energy pulse or flux that destroyed his power supplies and many internal systems. There were couplings hanging out of him too."

Holder nodded, "Sounds like someone created that energy pulse and ripped out the wiring packs on purpose to hide something. It was probably Slicer covering his tracks. What about the memory? Did it survive?" I gently wiped the blue and silver dome with a rag, "Unfortunately no, it was crispied up right along with the other systems in the direct vicinity of the power circuitry." Holder nodded thoughtfully. "What about the redundant memory loop?"

I stopped wiping and looked back at him, "Redundant memory loop?" Holder was grinning now as he rocked back a bit on the loading dock, feet dangling, "Yup. I installed a custom-made redundant memory loop in a, how should I say this, out of the way place." I laughed, "You're kidding."

"Nope", he nodded. "Open the sealed system for the center leg deployment. On top of the main leg drop/lift drive system, you'll find a moderately sized memory system. It was designed as a necessary hiding place for data and secrets about our missions. 'HOLDER', remember? HOLDER of secrets?"

I pulled the head off the little 'droid and opened the cover of the central leg mobility system. Attached to the inside of the lid and wired into the main data junction plate was a redundant memory loop. "Nice work", I said.

Holder smiled, "If the thing worked as it was supposed to, you should have a recording of everything I've told you about. That little 'droid was working with us on the ridge the day we were breaking down the survey equipment. I had him chronicling the tear-down procedures for some follow-up reports I was working on."

He smiled and closed his eyes to feel the sun on his face, "It's nice to be getting more pieces of my memory back."

Excited, I replaced the dome, activated the fusion furnace and switched the 'droid on. As before, the domed head rotated to the right with a whirring sound as the Process State Indicator displays on the front and rear lit up as the little astromech's brain came back online.

"You know, it was the pulse wave from this little guy that released you from the carbonite. We were deadlocked about what to do with you, or if you would have survived the containment at all."

Holder eyed me as he turned that remark over in his head. His eyes flicked down to the 'droid, "I programmed that pulse wave into him in case any of us were ever taken hostage or prisoner and held in a holding cell. The pulse wave was designed to knock out any restraints or barricade doors used in a standard holding cell, allowing for our escape. I never actually thought it would be used. Where's everyone else? Felth is crashed out inside, but I didn't see the others."

I nodded my head, "They're all at the dig site, trying to find any evidence they can to support your story. We have to be able to trust you. You could have been telling us the truth, and then again you might have been the one that resisted fighting the Jedi. We had to know for sure."

"Of course. I understand completely. If I'm ever to cover your backs, you want to know I really have it covered. I would expect nothing less."

"If I can retrieve the recording of the ridge fight, that'll be all they'll need. I'm assuming that you have a personal voice command lock on your hidden files?" Holder laughed, "Right again. I like the way you think, Deckard." He turned his attention to the 'droid, "Initiate Command Voice Override." The little mech turned his dome to face Holder and bleeped a small series of whistles and beeps, awaiting the next command. "Initiate holographic playback mode, last encrypted recording."

The blue and silver dome rotated to the left a bit as the process indicator lights winked a little faster as it recalled the hidden memory and the recording contained in it. We watched as the front holoprojector lit up and a recorded image of several troopers working on some equipment appeared. Holder and I both watched as things unfolded as he had described: the appearance of the Jedi, the others in his group turning on him. Then Slicer loaded him and the 'droid onto a transport back to the dig site.

"I think this little guy just bought you a lot of credit", I said as I watched Slicer return to the transport with the carbonite-frozen Holder. He proceeded to reach over to the camera. A burst of static followed and the recording ended. "That must have been when Slicer fried the little guy" said Holder. "Thanks for working on him Deckard, I owe you."

Luke knew they were pressing their luck. It had now been a little more than five months since the Death Star was destroyed, and although no one had spotted Imperial ships, they were being watched, he could feel it. He knew the Empire would never let the Rebel victory at the Battle of Yavin go unanswered, nor would they allow them to just slip away into seclusion. They needed to leave this place and do it soon, or they would fall victim to the ground assault that was surely coming.

If they needed to evacuate quickly, they were now in a position to do so, but every day that passed put them at greater risk. The search teams had found a location for the new rendezvous point, and as soon as all personnel and equipment could be loaded from the base here, they would begin efforts to ready their new location. Contracts for cold weather gear and supplies were being quietly sought through various trusted channels, but it would require funds they didn't have, and it was taking time, which they certainly didn't have. Until money could be secured, they would need to leave this place and meet up with the rest of the fleet, staying on the move until everything began to come together for the new base.

It would certainly not be a quick process. A normal relocation of this scale would take a year, maybe two, but moving into a harsh environment and literally having to carve out the space needed? It could take three years to have a fully functional base of operations again. He already had plans for that time, though. If he was to have any chance against Vader, he needed to try to find more about Obi-Wan and his teachings. The only place he knew might yield some information, and the best place to begin his search was in the Jedi's old home. As he thought of returning there, he remembered his naïve comment to his mentor about selling his 'speeder, "That's OK, I'm never coming back to this planet again". Tatooine seemed so far away and so long ago to him now. The one place that he couldn't wait to leave was now the one place to which he must return. "Never say never" he thought to himself, as the transport speeder full of pilots pulled away into the underground corridor heading for the hidden fighter hangar far out in the jungle.

A shadow crept silently across the _**Lusankya**_ and the other clustered Star Destroyers of the forming Imperial Blockade, as the _**Executor, **_arriving out of hyperspace, eclipsed the light of Yavin's sun and slipped effortlessly into place above the fourth moon. The Dark Lord stood motionless and deep in thought, staring out the central portal on the bridge of the enormous craft. He knew the rebels would be trying to evacuate soon. Reconnaissance missions had revealed isolated ships leaving the moon, but there had been no mass exodus of alliance personnel and craft yet.

Unbeknownst to Vader and the Empire, most of the Rebel fleet, including the Mon Calamari Star Cruisers under Ackbar's command and the refugee ships containing the Alliance government, had not been present during the Battle of Yavin and were now scattered throughout the galaxy, awaiting transmission of the rendezvous beacon signal and coordinates to their next hidden base.

As he watched five Immobilizer-418 class Interdictor Cruisers emerge from hyperspace and assume their textbook blockade positions, his thoughts drifted back to another blockade set up long ago by the Trade Federation around Naboo. As the last of the key ships fell into place, he knew that the waiting game they had been playing with the rebels was nearly over.

Landing craft would soon be deployed to the surface coordinates provided by their spies. Each would be loaded with mechanized A5 Juggernaut, AT-AT and AT-ST divisions as well as ground troops. Members of his handpicked 501st Legion would be spearheading the attack, anxious to avenge the troops lost in the Death Star explosion. Although nearly six standard months had passed since the station's obliteration, the loss was still fresh enough that anger would more than fuel their vengeful assault.

Deep in the bowels of the Imperial ships, troops were gathering, checking their gear and grabbing extra power clip bandoliers as they loaded into their assigned deployment vehicles. AT-ATs were being loaded, legs folded, into surface deployment pods and lifted into the overhead deployment racking systems with the awaiting TIE bomber squadrons. The scout units had landed on the moon under the cover of darkness two days ago and had made their way through the jungle to the planned perimeter around the temple.

The silent, empty screen he had been watching was suddenly alive with activity, small blips appearing. "General, Imperial ships are appearing out of hyperspace and taking up perimeter positioning as you said they would."

Dodonna stood up from his seat and came over to the console, looking over the young rebel's shoulder. He studied the screen for a moment, seeing still more blips appear, "They're readying the blockade. Troops and bombers will be here soon. Send out the alert. A ground assault is now imminent. Send a scrambled signal to Ackbar. Have him jump some empty fleet tankers to coordinates near the Vallusk Cluster to see if he can lure some of these Imperial ships away."

Luke ascended the orange durasteel ladder attached to the side of his ship, looking around the empty hangar at the other fighters. X-wings and Y-wings sat silently awaiting duty. Their pilots were the lucky ones. All had seen action against the Empire and made it back to fight another day. Soon they would be called upon to provide safe cover away from this place.

He grabbed the dangling control box that hung from the catwalk overhead and used it to maneuver R2 up to the level of the astromech socket behind the open canopy. He was busy securing him when the relayed alert from the temple base was broadcast through the hangar. Looking up from his work to listen to the blaring announcement, he felt a shiver move up his spine and an icy cold darkness tugging at his insides. He realized it must be Vader. They didn't have any time to spare. As he finished securing the little 'droid, other pilots came running into the hangar, helmets under their arms, to ready their ships.

Wedge Antilles ascended the orange rack ladder of the fighter beside him, "Looks like this is it. Support and escort! Time to fold up and head out!" He stepped down into his cockpit and flipped on the main power to his ship's reactors, grinning as he pulled on his flight gloves, "You know, if you hadn't gone and blown up their station . . ."

Luke grinned as he stepped around the canopy and down into his own cockpit to begin his pre-flight check, "I know, we wouldn't have been invited to _THIS_ little party." Wedge was still grinning as he connected the chin strap on his helmet and adjusted the amber visor.

At the fringes of the moon's jungle forest, a trooper lay on the ground behind the massive trunk of a fallen tree, peering through the eyepiece of his monoculars at his scouts across the huge clearing ahead. They had made their way across the expanse and were positioned at the edge of a broad stone terrace that led to the immense stone temple, now shrouded in a light fog. The Massassi were a larger, stronger branch of the Sith race, and had populated the bulk of it's military. While the Massassi had originated on Korriban, there had been a fragmentation of the Sith people, and many had emigrated here to Yavin IV seeking a safe haven. During the Sith War and Exar Kun's reign, most of the Massassi perished. Today, only their ruins stood as testimony to their existence.

The all but forgotten stone temples rose out of the wilds of the lush jungle, catching the first rays of sunlight as it streamed across the canopy of the treetops. Silently, the lead scout turned and motioned back to the trooper on point for the remaining troops to proceed to his location. He, in turn, lowered his monoculars and motioned to the troops behind him. The task force of the 501st Legion rose to their feet and double-timed it across the clearing. Once they reached the scouts, all proceeded toward the long, low entrance that extended across the foundation of the temple.

As they crossed the stone courtyard, the trees out of which they had just come began to tremble, and the ground shook. The lush, green limbs were pushed aside and the trees splintered and pushed over as Imperial AT-AT Walkers ripped their way through the dense foliage and out onto the stone courtyards that surrounded the temple.

It was a coordinated effort, as AT-ATs emerged from the trees on all sides, blocking any avenue of escape. TIE's and TIE Bombers screamed in from the distance, strafing the treeline behind the grouped AT-ATs, and dropping bombs, perfectly timed for the attack, blocking escape by air, and clearing away the foliage that could provide cover for fleeing Rebel troops. The Rebel's base that had eluded destruction by the Death Star would now fall.

Blaster fire erupted from out of the darkness, glancing off some of the polished Impervium armor before finding weak spots, cutting down troops across the front line. Those behind the fallen advanced through the smoke and mayhem of the dead and dying, sporadically tripping hidden thermal mines, set by the rebels, which simply materialized when triggered, vaporizing three or more troops at once within the spherical reach of the pulsed white disintegration orbs. The smoke drifted on the slight breeze as the sights and sounds of battle once more unfolded around the base of the ancient temple that had seen this kind of fighting many times throughout its history.

TIE's engaged the small, fleeing Rebel transports ships, crippling and downing some into the surrounding jungle. Troops strategically situated in the foliage took care of any crash survivors trying to escape into the jungle. Some of the smaller ships were able to slip by and make their way out of the atmosphere. Rebel troops finally retreated, running into the darkened bowels of the temple and across the huge hangar bay to the last transport ship.

Jan Dodonna watched carefully for a break in the onslaught. During a slight lull, and using the smoke as cover, he slipped out of the temple, making his way into the center of a squadron of TIE Bombers that had landed in the courtyard. He rolled under the belly of the ship in the center, planting and activating a small sonic charge. As soon as the timer began counting down he rolled out from under the ship and ran back into the temple, once again behind enemy lines.

A suffocating silence washed out over the jungle as the charge absorbed all sound waves around it, immediately followed by the ear-shattering blast of the sonic charge wave ripping vertically down into the courtyard and up through the center ship, causing it to explode, triggering a chain reaction, destroying the formation of bombers in a massive explosion. With hands clasped tightly over his ears, he turned and ran toward the transport, hoping he could slip past the troopers already inside the dark hangar.

Two rebel squads of X-wings and Y-wings, having launched from a remote location, streamed in from the distance joining the fight. Skywalker was among them, giving the TIEs a run for their money. A third squad of ships remained behind at the remote launch site guarding camouflaged personnel carriers. Leia was already safely on one of them with C-3PO. Solo and his Wookiee co-pilot had confirmed she was onboard and were preparing to raise ship. The unit of AT-ATs fired simultaneously, ripping into the temple, rocking it with explosions as the last of the personnel transports lifted off, flanked by Rebel fighter escorts.

As they moved clear, the Millennium Falcon rose from the mossy stone courtyard on its repulsor field. Chewbacca brought the main engines online as they rose up past the tree line. Before he or Solo could react, the 'Falcon shuddered and pitched as she came under fire. Solo grabbed the throttle levers and pulled them all back together. The ship leaped forward as Slave I dove over the treetops, spitting blaster fire across the courtyard at them, ripping up the stone.

The Wookiee howled something unfavorable as he fought to re-energize the rear shields. Solo took his fast hunk of junk into a straight upward climb into the blinding Yavin sun, followed by a twisting rollover into a dive heading straight back toward Fett and Slave I. As he swung his ship recklessly around, one of the rebel commanders catching a ride to the rendezvous point had made his way up the main tunnel ladder and strapped himself into the upper quad gun array seats.

Fett rocked Slave I to one side and unleashed a hailstorm of blaster fire stabbing through the air and burning across the Falcon's shields. Solo rolled the 'Falcon over a quarter turn as he raced past Slave I, narrowly missing a midair collision. At the bottom of his dive he pulled up hard and rolled over once, racing out over the green canopy of the jungle moon. The gun turret swiveled quickly to the rear as Slave I executed an inverted loop and rolled in behind the 'Falcon. Solo pitched the ship back and forth, left and right, accelerating as the commander in the gun turret opened fire.

All four barrels of the quad cannon fired at once in a blinding, pulsed flash of energy which Slave I took as a hit head on. Her shields absorbed most of it as Fett wound her around, trying to avoid more blaster fire. Solo climbed to avoid a taller grove of trees and abruptly threw the 'Falcon up on end to narrowly avoid slamming into one of the tall stone Massassi monuments that thrust up through the trees.

Fett corrected also, but Slave I's starboard outrigger slammed into the giant stone pillar as they raced past at breakneck speed. The ship spun hard to the starboard under the force of the impact as part of Fett's rudder on that side sheared off and hurtled away into the trees. He fought to maintain control, looking for a clear place to set down as the Millennium Falcon rolled over several times and climbed straight up into the overhead sky. He watched through his tinted visor until he could no longer make out the Corellian ship against the deep blue.

"Another time Solo, another time."

The last of the slow-moving transports and her fighter escorts continued their ascent through the atmosphere, 'nav computers on standby with the pre-loaded coordinates encoded. Finally, they joined the other alliance ships and headed into a certain battle with the Imperial blockade as the Falcon joined the mix.

Vader watched the battle's progress and the small group of Rebel ships heading his way, when suddenly Admiral Griff's squadron of Star Destroyers dropped out of lightspeed, squarely on a collision course with his ship. Aggressively evasive maneuvers were attempted by the crews, but the destroyers collided with the newly commissioned _**Executor**_ with amazing force.

The rebels seized the opportunity during the confusion that followed. As soon as the last ship cleared the atmosphere, and the first ship was beginning to come under fire from the blockade, all 'nav computers were activated, aligning them all in formation for a synchronized jump to lightspeed.

In a flash, all the rebel ships disappeared in a mass hyperspace jump. Only a lone X-wing remained momentarily behind. Luke adjusted his own 'nav computer settings manually as R2 voiced his protest in a series of whistles. Moments later his ship also hyperjumped, following a slightly different course from the others.

Vader was furious. His ship had been damaged and the rebels and his son had slipped through his grasp. As Griff's hologram apologized profusely to the dark Lord, the invisible pressure of the Force's dark side crushed his airway. Vader clutched his fist, shaking it at the forward viewport on the Executor's bridge until the impetuous Admiral's life had left him, and his holographic form dropped to the deck.

Imperial troops poured throughout the darkness of the empty hangar bay, stepping over Rebel and Imperial corpses where they lay. Fueling hoses hung from overhead gantries, haphazardly tossed aside. Several small repulsor transports had been abandoned near the entrance, and the smell of damp stone and starship lubricants hung heavy in the silent, still air of the stone temple.

More troops now flooded in now, advancing deeper into the temple, down darkened, winding hallways, weapons drawn at the ready, searching every room until the command center was finally discovered. All personnel had successfully evacuated, and although most of the equipment had been removed, it had been done hastily. There were pieces of small hardware still lying about.

As the team moved through, sweeping the command center for anything of value, one trooper dropped a blaster charge pack during his reload. He bent down to pick it up when he noticed a small datacard on the ground, stuck in the crack between two of the metal floor grates. The smeared label read "Base One". It appeared to have been stepped on and crushed . . . fractured in a splintered, spiderwebbed pattern, but could prove useful if the data inside could possibly be retrieved. He tucked it in his utility belt and rose to catch up with the rest of his unit.

The blood pounded through what remained human of the dark Lord as he stood motionless, watching the patch of stars toward which the rebels had jumped into hyperspace, eluding him and his blockade. The lenses in his breath mask fogged slightly as the heat poured from the top of his head.

Tiny fans on either side instantly switched on to clear his view as he turned away from the viewport and headed for the turbolifts. He wanted to see the damage to his new ship personally. With a slight wave of his hand, his reluctant officers fell in line behind him.

Sweat was forming under their high collars as they hurried to keep up with Vader's large stride. "Commander, where was the damage to my ship sustained?" One of the officers opened a datapad, "Damage reports are still coming in, milord, and it is spread across several levels, but it appears that the majority of the damage occurred in bay 117." Vader listened, then turned, stepping into the waiting turbolift alone. As the doors closed, his officers scrambled for another lift pod.

The Stormtrooper guards on either side of the entrance to the bay stiffened their stance a bit as Lord Vader stepped through the passageway into the bay. He stopped momentarily, taking in the initial view of the damage as he folded his cape back on both sides, revealing his gleaming upper chest and shoulder armor.

He leaned his helmeted head back, looking up at the twisted durasteel scar that ran the full height of the enormous bay and continued to both the decks above and below. The magnetic shield would hold back the vacuum of space until they could return to Fondor shipyard for repairs.

Thoughts of Kenobi and his son ran through his mind now as his officers silently approached through the access hall behind him, hoping not to be heard or noticed. For some reason he couldn't shake the echoing words Kenobi had uttered during their final confrontation aboard the Death Star, 'Anakin, you perceive the power of the Force as little as the spoon perceives the taste of the food.'

Without turning his head he spoke, "Commander, alert Fondor shipyard to have the necessary components prepared for immediate repairs to my ship." The officer opened his datapad to send the message as he replied, "Yes, Lord Vader."

With that, Vader whirled around, cape flying as he walked toward the hall. His men quickly parted, making a path for him. He stepped into the corridor beyond and headed back to the turbolift. His men remained several paces behind, waiting for him to leave the area before they stepped forward. They were all thankful for their lives and didn't want that to change.

As he stood waiting for the lift to open, Vader felt the slight, cool ripples he had been feeling in the Force fade away and vanish entirely. His son had definitely been on Yavin IV and was now gone.

"Commander, I want probes searching every corner of this galaxy. I don't care how many it takes. I want thousands dispatched immediately and thousands more lost as they pass beyond the fringes into unexplored space. I want mountains of data returned and analyzed. I want the Rebels found!" The datapad flew open once more as the officer replied, "Yes, Lord Vader."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24 - Revelations**

As he passed Adriana and Ohann, two gas giants, Luke witnessed the phenomenon which was the basis of ancient local legend. He had heard them repeatedly while growing up; of travelers mistaking Tatooine for a third, smaller sun. Its silicate surface reflected the light of its two suns so intensely it appeared nearly as bright as a third star.

The X-wing fighter raced through the upper fringes of Tatooine's atmosphere, heading toward coordinates Leia had supplied him with. It was the same data her father had entrusted her with, and she in turn had embedded in R2's memory systems as a command control for seeking out Obi Wan Kenobi. A string of data scrolled along the bottom edge of his nav' panel display: **Southwestern edge of the Dune Sea, Alpha-1733-Mu-9033, First Quadrant.**

There was enough of the young farmboy left in him to want to go flying into Anchorhead, land his fighter in the sand outside Tosche Station, and stroll in to show his old friends where fate had taken him. Fortunately, there was also just enough of the fledgling Jedi apprentice not to. He knew if he was to have any chance at the task that had been handed him; he needed to keep a most serious mind, a focused vision. There was much he needed to discover about himself and about the Force. Above all, patience with his own shortcomings and inexperience was needed as he began the journey toward understanding and enlightenment. He had to avenge his father by facing and defeating Vader. He had to become a Jedi.

Slowly, the details of the surface mountains below rose up from the surrounding sands as he neared the coordinates for a humble knight's dwelling on the Southwestern edge of the Dune Sea.

The wind lifted Solo's hair as he stared silently away into the darkening sky and clouds. Chewbacca stood at the bottom of the 'Falcon's boarding ramp behind him as Bria Tharen's father softly wept at the news of his daughter's death. The sun had disappeared below the Corellian horizon. Its brilliant, soft pink and orange glow had lasted but fleeting moments on the now-grey clouds overhead. Night was fast approaching as Renn Tharen tried to regain his composure a bit, his thoughts racing in a million directions. His daughter was dead . . . his lovely Bria, his little girl.

He looked up suddenly as if remembering something of importance, "Would you do something for me, Han?" Solo dropped his stare from the skies and turned to the old man, "Of course."

"Wait here, I'll be right back" he said, and hurried away into his home. Han noticed the clean smell of the air and the grass beneath his black boots, now fluttering in the slight wind as memories of Corellia blew through him. This place, the small town of Bela Vistal, nestled in the Corellian Mountains, was a far cry from his darker memories of this planet. Bela Vistal was quiet and serene with incredibly beautiful views in any direction. He thought of a possible far off future; perhaps settling here someday when he grew too old to play the game any longer. He would load up the contents of his various caches from around the galaxy, sell off what he didn't need and find a small quiet place here where no one knew him.

He was roused from his thoughts as Renn returned with something in his hand. Bria's aunt, Yané, gave her this when she was a child." He held out a delicate gold chain with a small pendant dangling from it. "Bria wore this always and thought of her aunt often. When Bria formed the _**Red Hand**_, she left it behind safe with me, planning to once again wear it when her fight was over and reason was returned to the galaxy. Will you please take this to Yané, on Naboo? I know Bria would want her to have it."

Han took the necklace and lifted his eyes to meet Renn's, "I'll make sure I put it in her hand myself." Renn was visibly relieved, new tears falling from the corners of his eyes.

"Where will I find her on Naboo?"

Renn wiped his face with a soft cloth, "The last I heard from her she was residing in one of the royal lake houses. Yané was handmaiden to several of the Naboo Queens over the years, and when she retired from service to the royals, was allowed to continue living in the lake house."

Han nodded his head slightly and reached for the other man's hand. Renn pulled him close, throwing an arm around Han, embracing him and speaking quietly, looking off into the gathering darkness, "Thank you for having the courage to come here and deliver the difficult news to me in person. I know this is hard for you too, son." He released Han and turned away, heading back into his home.

A slight whimpering groan issued from far back in Chewie's throat as Han walked past him into the ship, "Let's get outta here."

As the Falcon rose away from Corellia, Chewbacca's hands moved over the comfortably worn controls, setting a course on the 'nav computer. He glanced over at Han, who studied the necklace in his hand, running his thumb over the pendant.

"Naboo, huh?" said Solo to himself.

The Wook howled and pulled back on the throttle, propelling their ship into the slipstream of Hyperspace.

The flickering holoprojector went dim as the recording ended in static. Topolev and Etz glanced over at Holder, who was sitting on the edge of his own bunk now. Rogue turned to 4120, then to me, "Between that recording and the damaged lightsaber hilt we found in the carbon-freezing room, I would have to say . . . welcome to the group, Holder. You are now the newest member of the 104th Moisture Farm Patrol.

Danz nodded in agreement, as Etz sat down on Holder's bunk, "OK, I'm just going to ask, because I know everyone else is thinking it. What was it like being frozen?" 0600 shook his head, as several others shifted on their feet, but all turned to listen to Holder's answer.

"Well, I was conscious when I was frozen." He paused. "I recommend NOT being conscious when you are frozen. Slicer opened the unit and pulled out what looked like a drawer and forced me to lie down in it at blaster point. The drawer was made up of a heavy Carbonite base plate and Carbonite side plates which contained the hibernation circuitry and monitoring panels. He then slid me into the complete blacknessof the chamber. I remember feeling a quick blast of smoking, freezing gas sprayed out across my body in the small, dark space. My limbs tightened up and my skin froze immediately. As incredibly as it sounds it kept getting colder exponentially as the process continued on.

I couldn't move, I couldn't scream, I couldn't see. My lungs painfully crystallized and the blood in my veins was transformed from fluid to slush to ice in an instant as was my brain. Thankfully I blacked out at that point. I understand though, that once that happens, liquid carbonite is poured out onto the base plate beneath the freezing subject, filling up all around it and solidifying instantly.

When the fill level is reached just below the face, in my case, the filling stops and a thin layer of the metal is finally sprayed over the superfrozen flesh to seal the carbonite cocoon. Once the seal is made complete, the embedded hibernation systems kick in to keep the contained object or person frozen solid beneath the metal exterior. I remember nothing about the duration of my encasement. From that standpoint, I consider myself lucky. Awareness in that setting for any length of time would surely result in madness.

When I was released, it was just as painful, but in a reversed, different way. Coming out of the cold, the thin sprayed on metal melts and runs off the still-frozen object beneath. Once the thin carbonite covering melts away, your organs and fluids are pushed through a quick-thaw, which burns terribly, like being scorched and stuck with thousands of vibro-blades all at once. Your head is spinning and your stomach feels sick, like you need to vomit. On top of that, you are coming out of it completely blind and absolutely at the mercy of those who thaw you or are present when the thaw takes place. It's not something I'd want to go through twice."

Etz finally blinked as Holder's description came to a close.

"But I'm feeling much better now. The seizures and hibernation sickness cramps seem to have stopped, and my memories are beginning to come out of the haze a bit."

Rogue continued listening, then turned to Topolev and Falker, "You both have been in charge of small groups in your previous assignments. I want you to begin working with Holder on a physical rehabilitation program. His muscles will have atrophied and need reconditioning after such a long encasement."

He turned to Ddraig and me, "Good work with the 'droid. It'll be nice having one around again." Ddraig shot me a glance of accomplishment as Rogue and 4120 walked away into the front command center.

Holder stood up from his bunk and exchanged glances with Falker and Topolev, "Okay guys, where do we start?"

Topolev cut his eyes away from Holder, across to Falker, "Let's take him out back in the courtyard and get him going on some physical activity." Falker nodded, "We'll start with walking and some basic exercises and stretching, but by the end of the week I want you running, trooper."

Holder raised his eyebrows, "Yes sir."

I watched as they made their way to the back room and the loading dock's door, throwing it open to the courtyard. As the room cleared out, I pulled the tracking unit from my belt and flipped it on. I was anxious to get back out to the Wastes and explore Kenobi's home, but it would have to wait for now.

The mid afternoon light created crisp shadows that fell across the stone floor of "Alpha-1733-Mu-9033, First Quadrant". Luke sat quietly in the same space he had used to repair Threepio's detached arm. It was as if he was now re-visiting that past moment as a third party. Closing his eyes, he could hear echoes of Ben's voice revealing small glimpses into the man his father had been. The brief words painted a faceless picture in his head of a heroic Jedi warrior pilot from the Old Republic. He wondered about his mother. Kenobi had made no mention of her. Who had she been, and what role had she played in his father's life? He knew Vader had murdered his father and now Ben as well, but what happened to her? Had the Dark lord come for her as well?

Anger rose within him as he rolled these thoughts over in his mind. Somewhere inside, though, it occurred to him that anger was probably not a trait the Jedi Order would have taught or embraced, and he calmed his rage as his eyes opened. Vader did not begin this life as an evil person, he rationalized. Something or someone shaped who he became and fostered in him the darkness to do such things. Luke tried silently to forgive Vader for the sins the fallen Jedi had committed against him and his family. The journey to become a Jedi must be a long and arduous one, he thought, because he could not find the forgiveness he searched for within his heart. More discipline and maturity than he currently possessed would be needed for that. He did, however, seek a place in his heart and mind to move past it for the moment, and focus on finding a way to rein in the darkness that had descended upon the galaxy.

As he looked around, he realized everything was as Ben had left it as they hastily fled to Mos Eisley. Given Ben's age, he assumed there would have been far more possessions and belongings than he saw as he looked around the room. Was that perhaps another Jedi trait, to live with great purpose, possessing very little? Three small statues sat on the low, round table before him, where he and Ben had watched Leia's urgent, pleading message.

Leaning forward, he picked one of them up, turning it over in his hands. It was deceivingly heavy for its size, and appeared to be an artful rendering of an exotic bird. The first birds he had ever seen were in the jungles on Yavin IV. They were like smaller, tamer, feathered versions of the scale-covered Skettoes here on Tatooine. He returned the statue to the table and stood up, walking over to the upright chest from which Obi-Wan had pulled his father's lightsaber. He felt the weight of the weapon on his belt now as he reverently placed his hands on the lid of the chest, pausing slightly, then opening it slowly. There were several articles of clothing on top. Moving those aside, he uncovered a small set of fine tools wrapped up in a cloth case and tied with a strip of leather. Beside them was a small bag of rough stones. He traced the bottom of the compartment with his hands to make sure there were no more loose articles. When he was sure he had seen everything, he took out the tools and stones and closed the chest.

There must be something here, some information or scrap of flimsy with some type of direction in which he should go. Luke placed the tools and stones on the table beside the statues and made his way toward the rear of Ben's home where he slept. There was a modest bed of sorts, another small table and a chair. Over the back of the chair was draped a poncho similar to the one Luke had worn when he first met the old Jedi. He ran his hands over it as his eyes swept over the room. Several larger tools hung on the wall here, tools used to prepare and work leather. A small pile of leather and half completed projects lay beneath them on the floor.

Try as he might to discover something, nothing seemed to jump out at him as overly unusual or important. He moved back into the small hallway and was headed toward the main living space when he saw something on the floor sticking out from beneath a rug. He knelt down, flipped the rug back out of the way, exposing a narrow trap door. Slipping his finger into the recessed ring, he lifted the hatch out of his way and stepped down the stone steps into a small room which housed a small power furnace and several large water holding tanks. He ran his hands over the solid stone walls looking for some secret hiding compartment, but nothing was there to find. Frustrated, he climbed the steps back into the house and closed the hatch.

He was feeling very discouraged when he felt a slight tingling in his neck and faintly heard something whispering to him, "Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them."

With the tingling sensation still cascading down his neck, Luke drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and evenly as he closed his eyes, calming himself. In his mind's eye, he remembered the journey to Alderaan, and the time spent with Obi-Wan learning basic lightsaber skills aboard the Millennium Falcon. He remembered the feel of the gridded deckplates beneath his feet, the new lightsaber hilt in his hands, and the smell inside the musty helmet with the blast shield lowered. As he moved ahead through his memories he heard the muffled sound of Ben's voice calmly speaking from across the room, "Let go your conscious self, and act on instinct. Stretch out with your feelings."

Suddenly, a calm washed over him and the darkness he saw within his closed eyelids got considerably darker. As this happened, the size and scope of the darkness now stretched on to infinity and it began to feel contoured to him somehow. He felt a sort of invisible recognition of the dark room around him, not unlike the echolocation vision that Mynocks and other sightless, cave-dwelling animals used to navigate in their surroundings. The nearby areas of the endless darkness now had a feel, a shape, and he could see Ben Kenobi's hermitage as if his eyes were open wide, with one exception. Now he could see things his eyes had kept hidden from him. "Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them" he whispered. Now within the dark terrain around him, there was a faint glow beneath the poncho that lay draped over the chair. The same glow emanated from the three statues on the table and from within the chest he had already inspected.

He opened his eyes slowly and the tingling in his neck subsided. He exhaled, completely in awe of what had just happened. "It penetrates us, and binds us" barely escaped his lips in a whisper as he moved back to the poncho. He lifted it from the chair back, feeling the texture of the fabric in his hands. As he held it, another different voice whispered in his ears, "Feel, don't think. See things before they happen. Fear not, boy. Obi-Wan was my padawaan." Then the voice was gone. The cloak was obviously important to Obi-Wan, although Luke was unsure what a padawaan was. With his eyes still shut, he moved to the chest and again raised the lid. He lifted out the clothing and saw one of the side walls giving off a slight glow. Running his finger over the tooled wood, he pressed ever so slightly and the bottom of the compartment sprung up slightly on one end. He slipped a finger under that end and lifted the false bottom to reveal a small compartment beneath.

From within the small hidden space, he withdrew a small, clear cube with strange symbols and markings on it. As he did, the glow within the chest disappeared. Holding the cube in his hand, he turned toward the last point of light in the room coming from the statues on the table. Their glow had nearly faded completely and as he moved closer clutching the poncho in one hand and the cube in the other, their dim light faded away entirely.

He sat once again in his familiar spot with the newfound items cradled carefully on his lap and opened his eyes. The Tatooine daylight streamed in as he did causing him to squint as his eyes readjusted to the light. The small cube in his hands was made up of several layers of clear cubes within the clear outer cube. All had different patterns of etched markings on their surfaces.

Luke was amazingly relaxed after coming out of his Force vision, and sat motionless as he studied the cube, running his index finger over the detailed surface etchings. Suddenly and silently, a bright light flashed out from inside. As quickly as it had appeared it was gone, and then he could feel something moving, shifting within the box. The etchings were sliding, rearranging, realigning. As the movement stopped, there was a barely audible click, like a delicate locking mechanism releasing . . . surrendering its protected wealth.

A flickering recording opened, projected upward from the cube, about a half meter into the air. He set the cube on the table beside the statues as the image of a young Obi-Wan Kenobi, standing on a Tatooine ridge top appeared and began to speak:

"Hello Luke. If you are viewing this message, I am already gone, and unable to pass on this information to you in person. There is much to be covered, and I know you have questions of me, young one. I will reveal the answers to you in time as your destiny unfolds." Luke sat mesmerized by the youthful image of his mentor.

"First, the most obvious question I'm sure you have is regarding why you were raised by your Aunt and Uncle and what happened to your parents. Tragically, they both died on the same day and never knew you either. Your mother died in childbirth, shortly after you were delivered.

Your father, my Padawaan, or Jedi learner, grew into a Jedi Knight just as I was . . . am. He was an amazing pilot and a good friend who found himself in the Jedi Temple when it was gutted by the Emperor's troops in what later became known as the Great Purge. He was betrayed and destroyed, as we all were . . . by a Jedi that had fallen victim to the trappings of the Sith's lust for power.

Tragically this fallen Jedi, Darth Vader, betrayed and murdered your father on the day of your birth. Anakin's life was cut short that day, and he was unable to be with his wife when you were born. He wanted children and would have loved you and spent the time with you that I know you craved from a father.

After your mother's passing, I brought you here to live with your Aunt and Uncle. I tried to watch over you as best I could, but your uncle allowed me little contact which was ultimately cut off entirely. He felt if he could keep you sheltered from the past, he could keep you safe from the forces that took your parents. His methods may have been hard to swallow, but his intentions were always for your safety and well-being.

Your father was a great Jedi. I knew it would be my final assignment to stand guard over you until you could reach an age where with a free will, you might be trained as he was. Anakin was strong in the Force, as are you. It is you and your untapped abilities and skills that are the best hope this galaxy has of ever reversing the malignancy of the Empire. You are the last hope of restoring the freedoms of the Old Republic that were taken from us all."

Luke was staring, eyes wide, at the recording as Ben continued.

"I know this a lot to take in all at once, but the training that I had anticipated for you was never allowed. You must be strong and trust that I will lead you on a responsible training path. I know your instinct is to be angry at Darth Vader and want revenge for what he took from you. I can not stress this enough, young one; you must let go of those feelings altogether. Anger and fear are the first steps on the path to the Dark side. Release them and it will make you stronger than he could ever hope to be.

The next piece to reveal is a bit of history. I'll begin with the military forces which were used to implement the Emperor's twisted power play. In a period of unrest, when many in the temple felt that such a coup might someday transpire, a Jedimaster set out on his own to put in motion a protective measure which ultimately was our undoing. Master Sifo Dyas, seen here in an archival holo, solicited the creation of a Clone Army which he felt would be a way of assisting the Jedi in protecting the Republic during a struggle for control."

Unfortunately, his vision of a protective presence was distorted by the Emperor and used to implement martial law throughout the galaxy as his plans to seize control of the Republic were put into motion.

The new Emperor's strike team, led by Darth Vader and his 501st Legion, stormed the temple killing everyone in their path. It was their intention to completely extinguish the flame of the Jedi Order forever, so that the Sith might rule the galaxy unopposed. As part of their scheme, they sent a beacon from the Temple, recalling all Jedi assigned elsewhere to return to the Temple and their deaths.

My master's master and I discovered this signal, and returned to the Temple to alter it, warning other Jedi to stay away and hide. It was on my way to do this that I carefully made my way to the surface of Coruscant, to the only person I knew I could trust. He told me troops had already been in his diner looking for me, and that it wasn't safe to be there. I said goodbye to him, knowing I would never see him again.

I was working my way through the surface streets on my way to the temple when I came upon the broken and bloodied body of a Jedimaster who lay dying in an alley. He was near death when I came upon him. His arm had been severed by a lightsaber, and the ravages of the Emperor's Force lightning had robbed him of all but the smallest traces of life, to which he clung fiercely. In his dying breath he told me of several small statues in his private chambers which held embedded information about the Jedi Order.

He made me swear to take them when I reached the Temple. He said it was information he had compiled for just such a catastrophic event that could help rebuild the Order someday. I kept that promise, and if you are viewing this message, you already have the statues. When the time is right, I will reveal to you how to retrieve the information in them."

Luke glanced from the holo image to the three statues on the table.

"Now I will guide you to my first Tatooine home, a cave among the cliffs where there is still more information hidden there for you . . ."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25 – Thundering Forward**

As the Wookiee descended the lowered entry ramp from within the 'Falcon, both he and Captain Solo now felt the chest-pounding concussive sound of the twin waterfalls they had seen on approach to the shipping terminal. They had been directed to set down in the center of the huge terminal yard's landing platform, which was situated at the base of an enormous cliff, over which these twin falls coursed.

The domed buildings of the Royal Palace could be seen through the mist atop the cliffs. Theed, the capitol city of Naboo, was located far above them, on the stony banks of the river which fed the waterfall to their West.

Solo slapped a fully charged erg clip into his blaster and shoved it back in his holster. He walked away from the Wook to speak to the nearest port officer about securing a personal transport to the city above. Chewbacca stood transfixed, staring at the raw power of the incredible falls. He breathed in the smell of the mist that hung in the air and was momentarily reminded of the similar intense beauty of his homeworld, Kashyyyk.

Solo walked up behind, and tapped his co-pilot on the shoulder, "Chewie, I've set up a transport that'll take me up there." he said pointing to the top of the Western Falls. "There's a small waterfront area there where I can get a water taxi out to the royal lake house, so I can deliver this." He opened his palm, revealing the pendant. The necklace was wrapped around his open hand twice.

"I need you to stay here, pal." He looked away scanning the cliffs above as clouds floated through the expansive, blue afternoon sky. Chewie barked a short response. "I don't know why. There's no reason. I've just got a bad feeling about it." The Wook growled a bit in response, raising his furry arms. "I know nobody knows we were coming here, but I want to be ready to get outta here fast if we have to." Chewie whined softly as he looked back to the powerful waterfalls, then turned to re-enter the ship as he watched Solo walk off toward the small transport.

He knew there would be no time for him to make any real repairs, but he could keep busy running diagnostic scans on the ship. The idea of Solo without someone watching his back was not a comforting one. Chewbacca took his life-debt to the Corellian pilot very seriously. As the huge Wookiee entered the cockpit, he watched as Solo's transport lifted away. Turning his attention back to his tasks, his fingers moved quickly across the instruments as he initiated a deep system scan.

Solo watched the familiar shape of his ship growing smaller below as the transport rose up the steep cliff, headed toward Theed. The transport finally emerged above the stone wall only to find the waterfront area empty and no water taxis in sight. "I'll take you passengers over closer to the palace. I forgot. The waterfront area is closed this afternoon in observation of our fallen past queens."

The transport pilot maneuvered the small craft into the courtyard outside the palace grounds, where many had gathered to pay their respects to the lost monarchs. For a place of such amazing beauty, and such a sizeable gathering, there was the inescapable crushing weight of silent reverence, sorrowful reflection and genuine mourning from the masses as they lay wreaths and flowers at the base of the monuments here.

The small transport vehicle continued well past the solemn gathering and beyond more official Royal buildings that encircled the palace before it eventually came to a stop, touching down on the stone street of the lakeside walk and landing. Even here there was a sizeable gathering of people, watching the beauty of the lake and reflecting on those they had lost. Han stepped out quickly, eyes moving across the crowd, one hand hovering above his sidearm as he made his way through the masses toward the stone railing on the far side of the expansive courtyard. He placed a hand on the smooth stone rail that overlooked the magnificent lake and leaned over, peering down to the water's edge below. Several water taxis stood ready for their next fare. A slight grin crept over his face as he looked left and right, searching for a way down to the lower level.

He moved right, following the gently curving stairs down to the walkway that skirted the water's edge. As he approached the first taxi, he looked the old oarsman in the eyes, "I need to go to the royal lake house. I have a delivery for one of the royal haindmaidens." The old man shook his head and blocked Solo from entering his tiny craft. A younger oarsman called to him, and waved him over. "Sorry about that. Some of the old timers take todays' meaning a bit to extremes. Where did you say you needed to go?"

Solo eyed the younger man carefully as he stepped down into the small boat and sat down, "The Royal lake house."

"Sorry mate, they're closed to the public."

Han grinned, "That's good to know, but I'm not going as a tourist. I'm making a personal delivery to one of the retired Royal Handmaidens that lives there now. Her name is Yané, and the delivery is from her niece."

The boy looked up sharply at the name. "If my history is correct, she was handmaiden to Queen Amidala, one of the queens we're honoring here today. I'll take you over and announce you. It will be up to the handmaiden whether or not she receives you, today of all days."

Han nodded as he settled back against the seat, "Fair enough."

Yane's thick hair blew back away from the dark features of her face as she hurried across the veranda. Her feet noiselessly padded along the footpath of half-buried stone slabs as she circled around to the stairs which lazily wound down to the water's edge.

The delivery announcement was unexpected, but when the voice on the intercom mentioned her niece, Bria, she dropped everything. The warm lake waters lapped rhythmically at the stone retaining walls as she came around the final turn and could see the oarsman standing in the water taxi.

She slowed her pace a bit as she closed the remaining gap between herself and the bottom of the landing, "It's all right. Let him pass." The oarsman dropped the arm that held Solo back. Han stepped out of the small boat onto the stone step, eyeing the woman, "Yané?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes locked on his, "Yes, I am Yané. Who are you?"

"Renn Tharen sent me to deliver this." He extended his hand as Yané opened hers. The necklace and pendant slid from his hand into her palm. The metal was still warm from his grip, but a chill went through her as she realized what it was. Her eyes flew open wide as her gaze darted from the pendant back to Han's eyes, "Where is she? Is she all right?" She frantically looked to him for an answer as he searched for a delicate, but elusive way to word his devastating message. In the end, he could find no easy way, "I'm sorry . . . Bria is dead."

A curtain of white, sparkling points of shimmering light abruptly lowered before her eyes, and she almost passed out completely as her legs buckled beneath her at the news. She recovered quickly as Han reached out and grabbed her, steadying her and lowering her slowly to the stone steps. The oarsman jumped over to help, fanning her face a bit.

"How . . . did this happen?" was all she could manage, tears welling in her dark brown eyes as a breeze caught the delicate strands of hair that now fell across her face. Han raised her back to her feet slowly, "Let's get you to a more comfortable place, and I'll tell you all I know." She nodded slowly and steadied herself as they turned to ascend the steps toward the courtyard and veranda above.

"Let's go out over there, under the trees." She said as they passed by the hill that sloped up to the veranda.

"There's a nice breeze coming off the water this afternoon. We can talk there." Tears slid down her strikingly beautiful face as the impact of the loss ripped through her again. There was ample shade beneath the canopy of trees, and the veranda sat in a perfect spot overlooking the lake.

Yané stepped away from Han, her feet crunching in the bed of small stones as they approached the intricately carved railing. She reached out, clasping the stone rail with her right hand as her left held up the necklace. She brushed her thumb over it as flashes and images from the day she had placed it around her young niece's neck surfaced in her thoughts: "Whenever you wear this, Bria, think of me and how much I love you. You're the daughter I could never have, sweetie. I love you as if you were my own."

The mental images and memories of the smiling child faded away and the biting pain of reality came crashing down on the royal handmaiden once again. She cupped a hand across her mouth, and tears fell freely as spasms of grief tore through her again and again, shaking her. "How did it happen?"

The sweet smell of the flowers along the rail wafted across them as Han stared out across the lake at the distorted, rippled reflections in the waters. "Have you ever heard of the _**Red Hand**_?"

The small flashing beacon illuminated the tech's face as he searched the database to identify its origin. The search results splashed across the screen and his eyes grew wide as he reached to depress the comm key, "Lord Vader! Lord Vader!"

The comm channel opened and a tone sounded as Vader sat in his private chambers, "Lord Vader! Lord Vader!"

The dark Lord motioned briefly, channeling the Force to activate the comm. "Yes? What is it?"

The tech on the other end of the line cleared his throat and spoke up, "We're picking up a transponder signal, sir. We have identified the signal as the one assigned to the Millennium Falcon, milord."

Vader thought a moment, "The strike team on Yavin IV recovered that transponder already. Captain Solo discovered it and left it behind in the Massassi temple. This isn't news."

The line went silent for a moment before the reply came, "MiLord, the transponder on the Millennium Falcon was a dual-core twin transponder. Captain Solo may have found the first transmitter, but the secondary unit's timer mechanism was tripped when the first was removed. It has waited the programmed amount of time to avoid detection, and is now signaling. The scrambled beacon we're receiving is definitely that of the second twin, planted on the Millennium Falcon. It's a strong signal, and it's coming from Naboo."

Vader leaned close to the comm and replied, "Have the crew of the Intruder prepped. I'm on my way and will be on their bridge within the hour."

"Yes, milord."

My arm was buried up to the elbow, and the part in question was well out of sight. I closed my eyes, heightening the awareness of all sensations in my fingertips. I was absolutely focused on feeling the rotation of the fuel line coupler until the threads on the small part finally caught.

The swoop bike I had picked up at the parts store wasn't that old, but had been treated roughly and had been in dire need of some basic repairs and maintenance. I tightened the piece down by hand and then reached for the coupler wrench to finish the job. When it was firmly in place, I pulled my arm out of the small space in the engine compartment.

As I wiped off the thick, black lubricants that were smeared across my forearm, Holder came running into the courtyard, closely followed by Falker and Topolev. All three crossed behind the Sentinel and looped back around to the loading dock where I was working.

Winded, and barely able to form the words to speak, Topolev leaned against the dock with his head hung low, gasping in breaths, "Not bad, Holder. You're showing some improvement."

"Improvement my ass." said Holder. "I ran both of you guys until you could barely keep up. I'm fine. I haven't felt better than this in a long time."

"Yeah." wheezed Topolev, "Me too. Never better."

Falker laughed, his chest heaving also, "I don't think there's much more we can do to help you, Holder. It looks like you're back in pretty decent shape now." His last words were strained and forced out as his breath ran out. The astromech that had been assisting me with the swoop bike beeped and whistled as it completed the system check on the swoop's electronic systems.

"Deck, how much more do you have to do to this thing before It'll work? asked Holder.

I disconnected one end of the data cable from the 'droid and the other from the bike. "There are still some minor adjustments needed on the thrust bias to smooth it out some, but it should run now. Actually, I guess it's ready for a test."

The 'droid moved away as I stood up and rolled one leg over the saddle. I silently mouthed a phrase about breaking someone's knees if this didn't work, and switched the power on with the grip activator. As I did, the displays winked on showing thrust sequencing and power cell readings. The engines stuttered once as the air bubbles in the repaired fuel line worked their way through. When the engine finally kicked in, it kicked in strong and then calmed to a steady and constant whine.

Holder nodded his head approvingly, "Sounds good, man. You going for a test ride?"

I suddenly remembered that I still had the coded directions to Kenobi's home in the tracking device in my belt pouch. It had been a couple of weeks since I had found the site, but had not been fortunate enough to have the time to return. "Yeah, I might take it out of the city and run it out into the Dune Sea. I can really open it up and see what she'll do out there."

"Sounds good. I'll tell Rogue you're gone for a while."

I reached over to the loading dock and grabbed the tools and an extra power cell, tossing them into one of the saddlebags just in case I might need them. I clipped my forearm and hand armor back on and pulled my bucket securely down on my head. With everything in place, I rolled the bike into a slow turn out through the narrow alley into the street out front. Dust and sand sprayed up as I stepped down on the accelerator pedal and headed out across the city in the direction of the Dune Sea.

The little 'droid had rolled up the loading dock ramp and through the open bay door. Holder grabbed Topolev's hand and pulled him to a standing position, C'mon, brother, let's go."

*

The sand and stone on the floor of the canyon I was in streaked by as I opened up the throttle. I had been able to breathe life back into the damaged bike, and it felt good to get more life out of it. I noted a tall spire of stone atop the right cliff face. I knew I was close to the right area as I approached where it opened out to the edge of the Dunes.

The tracking unit had me located almost on top of the mapped coordinates. I noticed something ahead, so I cut back on my speed, and slowed down considerably. As I drew closer I could see it was a ship draped in very effective sand-colored camouflaging nets. The swoop slid up alongside it as I cut the engines off. The bike coasted to a stop and I dismounted, pulling off my helmet.

The ship had a long, narrow fuselage whose nose protruded from beneath the netting, which had been rolled back by the dry gusting winds. There was a quad-pack of engines clustered in the rear; two on either side of the cockpit. It had a broad wingspan with wingtip cannon armaments. I glanced around quickly as I recognized the fighter. It was one of two preferred fighter craft currently in service by the Alliance. It was the lethal T-65 X-wing fighter, but its pilot was nowhere to be found.

* * *

The golden metallic chance cubes dangled at the end of a delicate chain firmly gripped in the Wook's left hand. He wasn't sure about Solo's reasons for not wanting them in the 'Falcon's cockpit. Maybe the cocky Corellian had a hidden superstitious streak in him. Whatever the reason, he had a definite disliking for them. Chewie draped them over the control lever that jutted from the overhanging bulkhead and grinned with a mischievous woof-woofing that could only have been the Wookiee equivalent of laughter.

He reached back in the leather pouch at his waist pulling out a rag and some small tools for cleaning the bowcaster that lay across the console in front of him. Gripping it underneath and holding it up, he carefully wiped it down and was preparing a small tool for cleaning out the firing mechanism when a warning indicator flashed on the wall panel beside his head. The system scan had uncovered something.

He set the bowcaster down and flipped off the warning. Then he turned, shaking his head, toward the system monitoring display to see what had been detected. The 'Falcon had so many custom upgrades and modifications that system scan "anomalies" were not always a bad thing.

The data on the screen scrolled past at a dizzying rate until the screen locked onto a highlighted row showing a slight electrical pulse wave in the hyperdrive motivator core. He had spent more than his fair share of time down in the drive pit working on the engines on this ship, and had run countless monitoring sweeps on the drive system until it was tuned to near perfection. This pulse wave didn't belong.

He stood up sharply and stepped out of the cockpit headed to the rear and the drive engines. The air in the ship was still and quiet. All the systems except the scan had been shut down. The large, furry Wookiee hands gripped the gridded deck plate as strong arms lifted the panel aside, exposing the heart of the 'Falcon.

Chewie placed his hands on both edges of the pit and suspended himself as he swung his long legs over the edge, groaning slightly. Gently he lowered himself down to the pit floor and let go. The crisscrossed metal rods of the alluvial dampers, hydrospanners and the lower central core of the motivator cluster were still and lifeless and quiet. As he visually scanned the pit, looking over the parts, peering back into the shadowy recesses, he reached into his leather pouch again and withdrew a small handheld sweep scanner.

The tiny screen winked on as he calibrated it for a specific search. Then he initiated the device, which began emitting a popping ping sound as it searched for a detectable electrical pulse pattern. Almost immediately the display indicated a yellow triangle to his right. He moved the scanner in that direction and the yellow triangle centered itself on the screen as he brought it around to the power cable bundles that fed the motivator cluster stack.

Leaning closer, he realized that it wasn't coming from the stack, as the triangle moved off-center. He pulled back a bit and moved the scanner up a bit to a panel that covered the branching wiring harnesses. He pressed the flush release latch, opening the small durasteel hatch. Inside was a rat's nest of wires, and nestled in the center, bolted to the bulkhead at the back of the panel was a silver device about the size of a thermal detonator.

Chewie's eyes narrowed. It was definitely not part of the ship. Solo had removed a device similar to this back in the temple hangar on Yavin IV. He had only heard of twin-core transponders, but had never seen one until now. The Empire was playing for keeps this time, and this was a little too close to home for his liking. The Wookiee's furry lip curled back and Chewbacca growled angrily as his incredibly strong right hand ripped the device from the bulkhead.

With it firmly in his grip, he climbed out of the pit and raced off to the boarding ramp. He was about halfway down to the landing pad when he threw the transponder out to the duracrete and drew his bowcaster up to fire. A double-tap of crimson flashed from the weapon, disintegrating the Imperial tracking device as it tumbled over the ground. A small curl of smoke rose up from what was left of it. Chewie lowered the bowcaster as he turned to head back to the cockpit, not seeing the smoking trails streaking across the sky as Imperial landing craft and deployment pods made their way to the Naboo surface.

He slipped into Solo's chair and held down the comm key, barking into the microphone in a series of angry howls and throaty hollers.

One of the devices clamped onto Solo's belt buzzed as he looked out over the water from beneath the trees that shaded the courtyard. He put down his drink and reached for it, pulling the comm from its holder and flicking it on. Wookiee howls and barks spewed out as soon as the channel opened. He looked up into the sky noticing rolling clouds as he responded, "Calm down Chewie, slow down. Start over, pal. You know I can't follow you when you get all worked up talking fast like that."

The Wook began again, trying to control himself as he relayed his discovery to Solo. Concern washed over the Corellian's face as his copilot continued. Then as he continued to listen to the howls and groans, his eyes darted back up toward the sky as a chest-crushing, rumbling sound rained from above. The ground was shaking, and across the lake, the rapidly gathering clouds seemed to be spontaneously forming across the skies above Theed. Yané came running from the lake house across the courtyard toward him "What's going on? What's happening?"

She ran up to the stone railing beside Solo, looking out across the water as small dark shapes began to emerge, falling out of the rumbling clouds. A few seconds later, the unmistakable scream from the twin ion engines of Imperial TIE fighters reached them. As it did, the frothy clouds parted, revealing the sloping bow of an Imperial Star Destroyer emerging from concealment with another behind it.

As they watched, Imperial all terrain walkers advanced down the main boulevard, terrorizing the masses gathered there to honor their royal dead. Han's eyes were wide and his mind raced trying to figure a way out of this one, "Chewie, get her fired up and hidden somewhere nearby. Don't try to get to me. It's too much of a risk to try and get away twice. You can't afford to be seen until we're ready to go. I'm already on my way back."

He turned to Yané as he secured the comm back on his belt, "I've gotta get back to the shipping terminal, what's the most hidden way?" She was still staring across the water at the horror unfolding before them. "Yané!" She jumped and turned to him, as if startled from a dream, "What do they want?" Solo stared back at her, "They want me and my ship, for helping the cause that Bria gave her life to support. Right now, I need you to focus and honor her memory. What's the best way back to the terminal?"

"I . . . I know a way that will hide you from these searching eyes." she stammered, and began to run toward the upper terrace, Han running after her, "Hurry, I have an airspeeder. We need to make it to the royal hangar before the troops get there. Beneath it are water tunnels that were once used for power generation. They should be deserted."

The expansive ceiling of the sparkling blue sky overhead stretched from one horizon to the other, unobstructed by anything but the occasional wisp of thin clouds. Sunlight glittered across the pristine frozen landscape, and the endless snowdrifts of this beautiful but brutally unforgiving place muffled all echoes; swallowed all noise but the bitter, wailing wind. A spray of ice crystals, caught in the swift, frigid breeze, blew in a thin fog just above the ground.

The rebel scout, lying on his belly at the crest of the snow ridge pulled his scarf tighter across his mouth and raised the macrobinoculars to his goggle covered eyes. He was sure there had been movement in the next valley. The electronically enhanced image flickered slightly but showed nothing. He swept the lenses back and forth trying to confirm what he thought he had seen. It appeared there was nothing. He switched them off and slung them back under his left arm. As he turned his attention away from the valley and back to securing an anchored hook at the mouth of the ice cave he was about to explore, he failed to see an enormous creature covered in frost-white fur rise from its still, crouched position in the valley. It ran in a standing posture, taking huge strides, and quickly disappearing over the crest of the hill on the far side of the valley.

The shaggy animal with the saddle just behind the soldier sniffed at the air and shifted uneasily from one leg to the other. It turned its head sharply to one side, exhaling with a loud, strained whine followed by a shudder that started at its head and worked its way through the rest of the body. The scout glanced back at his ride, and then back to the work at hand. He fed his line through the secured hook, gave an abrupt tug, then dropped his legs over the edge of the opening and lowered himself inside.

Although a cave to be used for the main hangar and base of operations had already been located and was actively being carved out for use, there was still the matter of where to locate the main power generators for the site. This cave was already proving to be very promising for that purpose. He slid down the line a bit, digging the spikes on his boots into the face of the wall just inside the cave mouth and looked around.

This cave was narrow, but would allow most of the power generators to be hidden underground with only the top half revealed for venting purposes. He drew his left forearm up to his face and pressed the comm button, "Echo one to echo base, location confirmed. Send the cutters and engineers to my mark."

Flashes of lightning tore through the clouded, darkening sky over Theed as deadly static discharges from the hull of the Destroyer arced to the ground. A strong wind whipped over the speeder, shaking it violently, as cool air rushed in to replace the superheated air boiling up and away from the massive ship's steaming hull.

Han was eyeing the silenced monitor on the instrument cluster. It showed a live news feed of AT-ATs advancing on the downtown plaza, firing into the crowds. People were running frantically as several of the monuments were destroyed under fire from the mobile cannons. The feed abruptly switched over to the broadcast center showing Stormtroopers swarming into the smoky building. Han reached over to increase the volume.

A reporter was yelling to be heard over the explosions and blaster fire behind him, "I repeat, the Empire has taken control of the palace and all royal hangars. I advise everyone to take immediate cover!" The video feed jumped through several views of the royal plaza and then to a view of the hangars with Stormtroopers pouring in through the open doors, assuming control. As the image flickered and jumped back to the reporter, Stormtroopers had advanced on his position, showing no hesitation in blasting a wide hole through him as he continued his broadcast. He slumped to the floor, and as several troopers took over his position, the monitor suddenly cut to a static test pattern and tone.

Yané raced across both rivers and through groves of huge, lush trees heading for the hangar. "It's just ahead", she shouted.

"Can't go that way" yelled Han pointing at the monitor, "They're already there."

She looked at the monitor momentarily and cut her eyes away quickly as she responded, "They're shutting things down in a hurry. What'd you do?"

Han grinned, remembering the role he had played in reducing the Death Star to a debris field. "I don't know . . . I might have broken something of theirs."

Remembering the time she had spent doing research for the queen in the archives, she abruptly changed course, veering to the right and gaining altitude. The airspeeder climbed quickly and was headed straight for a cluster of tall, domed towers that rose up along the banks of the river.

As they came around, Han saw stone bridges connecting the towers and spires reaching up from their domes, with the rushing river water far below. Then he saw the grassy landing pad on the roof of the tower they were heading for.

"This isn't as direct as going through the hangars, but there's another connecting entrance to the water tunnels beneath the archives in the bowels of these towers. Let's just hope they aren't here yet."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 - Pursuits**

The small holocron, pulling at his insides, had successfully led the young Rebel Commander away from his landing site at Kenobi's hermitage. Luke's tendency to doubt was definitely being tested, as the cube had delivered him deeper into the stony cliffs where caves now littered the rock walls. With foresight, he had shed his flight jacket, leaving it with the poncho inside Kenobi's home, and had now rolled up the sleeves and unfastened the top few buttons of his crisp officer's shirt.

He climbed carefully over the sharp stone outcroppings further and further up into the deep crevasse, heading toward the summit which overlooked the canyons below. As he approached the top of the ridge, a very large opening came into view. It was a heavily weathered opening, leading into the cool darkness of a large cave, hidden from anyone below this obscure, treacherous vantage point.

Beneath this opening was a spillway of small rocks and stone slabs. The lonely emptiness of the blowing wind was all he heard as he drew closer, kneeling to examine one of them. It had been carefully dumped with all the others to either side of a path leading toward the cave, but did not appear to be a natural deposit of broken stone. The flat surfaces of the slabs were perfectly flat, while their stone edges appeared to have melted, oozing out over the edge before re-solidifying. He ran his fingers over the smooth, rounded mounds of stone along the edges as he looked around at the many similar slabs.

He stood up, wiped his face and carefully headed up the path into the opening ahead. As he stepped into the inky darkness, his vision was suddenly shrouded with a dark green patch where the glaring sunslight outside had temporarily stained his retina. The green haze slowly faded away as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could now see that the ceiling of the enormous cave was nearly ten meters above. The lowest level here was small, with the gouged out remains of a stone water collection pool in the floor, most likely fed at one time by Kenobi's 'vaporator.

This lowest level had not been opened up as much as the levels above, but was open completely to the roof above. Ben had probably left it in its' natural state to avoid calling attention to himself. Luke walked to the back wall of the cave. Curving steps had been hewn from the stone here; carved right into the wall. He ascended them, circling around to a second level.

Here, an assortment of small hand tools, electronics and flimsy documents, bound in some type of animal skin leather, sat exactly where they had been left behind on a stone workbench. It too had been carved right into the stone of one of the side walls. He stepped closer, running his hands over the smooth, flat surface of the bench and out to the same melted, oozing edges he had seen on the slabs outside. Obi-Wan must have carved out portions of this cave with his lightsaber, slicing through the stone and leaving smooth, rounded, molten edges behind. He walked away from the bench over to a half wall which provided a view to the level below.

After a brief look down, he turned away, scanning the rest of the room, which was empty. He made his way back to the steps and ascended to the third and final level of the cave home. This was a very small room that had been hollowed out just beneath the top of the ridge line. A small overlook afforded a view to the lower levels of the cave and a narrow slot, also pierced by a lightsaber, allowed an amazing view of the canyons and Dune Sea as well as the path which twisted its' way up to the cave.

This small space was most likely where Kenobi had slept, protected and able to see anyone or anything approaching. Luke sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes, feeling the lingering energy in the stone around him. It clearly resonated, even now, with the undeniable presence of Ben Obi-Wan Kenobi. As he sat with his eyes closed, the small cube began rearranging its' inner structure once again, ending with a slight click, and the flickering image of Obi Wan appeared again.

"Hello again, young one. If this portion of the recordings have been triggered, you have successfully found my cave. This was my first, temporary Tatooine home. It was rough, but served its' purpose well enough. There are a few things I have left behind that you will need to know about, and I will explain them to you but first, I want you to understand a bit more about Jedimaster Sifo Dyas.

My master, Qui Gon Jinn, Sifo Dyas and Count Dooku were all close, lifelong friends who held similar beliefs, especially those regarding the failings of the Republic and the erosion of the Jedi Order. While they were all masters, each defied the council in their own small ways when they felt the path chosen by the group was leading them astray as individuals.

Qui Gon felt the Jedi were losing touch with the living Force, and routinely ignored the council's wishes if he felt the Force guiding him elsewhere along a different path.

Dooku was obsessed with collecting and studying Sith antiques and artifacts, and kept a private collection of his found treasures.

Sifo Dyas held many thoughts similar to those of Qui Gon, and was a student of lightsaber combat, both Jedi and Sith forms. He allowed himself to second guess the council when he deemed it necessary, but also felt very strongly that the Republic was worth saving and could be reformed.

When the Sith revealed themselves to Qui Gon on the sands of Tatooine, Sifo Dyas sensed the growing power of the elusive Sith Lord, and foresaw a great conflict that would ultimately tear the Republic apart. When Qui Gon and I escorted the Naboo queen back to her homeworld, Sifo Dyas and Dooku carefully constructed a view of what they felt was happening, that a Sith lord was manipulating the guilds of the Trade Federation into the beginnings of war.

Distraught over their conclusions, it was decided that Sifo Dyas would secretly meet with Kaminoan cloners and begin construction of an army that would be totally loyal to the republic and assist the Jedi in turning back the looming Sith threat. Dooku, with his in-depth knowledge of Sith artifacts, would seek out and hunt down the Sith Lord.

It was the death of my master, Qui Gon, at the hands of the Sith apprentice, Darth Maul, that sent Dooku over the edge. The death of his friend boiled over into an emotional search for the Sith Master. Allowing his emotions to steer his course, he opened himself up to manipulation and control, and was lost to the seductive power of the Dark side, eventually becoming the Sith Lord's new apprentice.

The first act Dooku performed as a Sith was to return to the Jedi Temple, erase Kamino from the archives and murder Sifo Dyas, thereby erasing all evidence of the army that was being cultivated. Dooku lied to the council, saying that Syfo Dyas' death had been an accident, caused by a heated argument between them over Qui Gon and the state of the Republic.

Although the exact circumstances of the death were never revealed, Dooku was expelled from the Order.

It is important that you understand what led to the formation of what is now known as the Empire. Those who do not learn from history are destined to repeat it."

The image of Obi Wan flickered a bit, and he lowered his head, catching his breath and regaining his composure before continuing.

"The tools and stones you found in my home, when combined with the parts and instructions found on my workbench will allow you to create your own lightsaber. Yes, you have your father's, but part of the Jedi journey is crafting your own, as a final test. You will not need these items now, but should something happen to your father's blade, these items will take on immense value to you. If you take them with you, you run the risk of them being lost or captured. Leave them here in the cave and no one will find or bother them. When they are needed, you'll know just where they are.

This place, along with my home, are yours to do with as you see fit. They will serve you well should you need a temporary home here on Tatooine, far away from the reaches of Vader. You do not need to fear him coming here. He lost something of great value here, and will most likely never return. This holocron will activate when certain triggers are met, when you need me most. May the Force Be With You, young one." The Jedimaster smiled, and the hologram retracted into the cube, leaving Luke alone in the dark.

Sand crunched on the flat, stony slab beneath my boots as I pushed against the cool metal of the curved handlebars. The swoop slid silently on its repulsor field as I guided it back into the shadows of the low, narrow slot in the stone wall of the canyon. When I felt it was sufficiently hidden, I turned my head to check the line of sight from here, and could not see the X-wing fighter. Propping my helmet on the saddle, I drew my blaster, and walked off with the locater in the other hand to find Kenobi's home.

The lighted blip on the small screen indicated that I was very close. I watched carefully for the rebel pilot as I climbed the rocks of the hillside, sweeping my blaster back and forth across the terrain. As I drew closer to the top of the ridge, I could see the top of a moisture 'vaporator sticking up into the cerulean sky. The stone outcroppings I climbed over were blistering from their exposure to the blazing suns' glare all day. I felt the small rippling of the capillaries in my body glove opening to accept the cooled fluids from my backpack. Unfortunately, I wore no pack, and had no cool fluids to fill it with. I continued my climb, eventually arriving at a clearing on the hillside. I swept the immediate area for signs of life, both visually and with my scanner, but there were none to be found here. Placing the deactivated locater back on my belt, I crossed the sandy clearing to a small, time-weathered building situated just beyond the 'vaporator. It was square in shape with a center dome on top, and had an amazing view in one direction out into the Dune Sea, and down the canyon in the other.

As I entered the cool shade inside, I noticed there was one large room with supporting columns spaced throughout. It was subdivided into small living areas, with only one small hallway to the private bedchambers in the back. Sweat rolled down my face from the blistering heat outside, as I cautiously looked around. The old Jedi had certainly led a sparse existence. A single plate and cup sat neatly arranged near what appeared to be a food preparation area.

I lifted the lid on a chest and rifled through some articles of clothing but found nothing of interest. A sudden wind gust blew open the unlatched front door, slamming it into the stone wall behind. I whirled around, leveling my blaster at the opening, my heart racing. Only the wind entered. I lowered the weapon and looked around a bit more as I moved to close and latch the door.

I moved into the living space where there were several beautiful statues on a low table. The rebel's flight jacket lay beside a tan cloak on a nearby bench . . . he would definitely be returning, possibly at any time, I had to be careful. The more I thought about that, I decided that he could very well uncover valuable information. I was better served by observing, and allowing him to depart alive, thinking Kenobi's home was both undisturbed and a secure place, rather than killing him.

I looked around for a place to conceal myself, somewhere out of sight where I could scrutinize him. Memories of a game from my childhood swept over me, along with the very real, very rich smell of the large evergreen tree I used to hide in. It was my best hiding place, they never found me there. I smiled at the vivid recollection as the turned up corner of a small rug caught my eye. I walked over to it and knelt down, pulling the rug back, I exposed a hatch of some sort. Lifting it open revealed a small, dark, stone-walled room with steps leading down to a power generator. I descended into it, lowering the trap door over my head until only a narrow slit remained open; just barely enough for me to see through the fringe edges of the rug on top.

I sat in the darkness for some time, eyes closed, slowing my breathing and waiting for the rebel to return. I focused on being as still and quiet as possible. Suddenly, my eyes flew open at the sound of the opening door.

Yané ran from the speeder across the tended grass courtyard atop one of the looming towers. She headed for a small, moss and vine-covered stone and block structure ahead that housed the top of the stairwell that would wind them down to the surface. Han raced after her, drawing his weapon to be ready just in case, "Why did you land us up here?"

Her hand wrapped around the cool, metal handle on the door and she pulled hard, leaning her weight back to pull open the heavy entrance, "I could have set us down on the ground, but there is a key that unlocks access to the water tunnels, and another that sets the rotation of the waterway door."

The Corellian followed as she stepped through the door and hurried down a spiral stone staircase. Bria's necklace and pendant jumped wildly around her neck as she ran, "The huge circular doors rotate, revealing a cored opening in the door, which allows water to pass through for only three minutes until the rotation is complete, concealing the opening once more, and locking the retaining door again. It was designed to rotate open and stay open, diverting water from the river above to generate power. Because the system is now offline and non-functional, the waterway doors have been left in a mode that only allows a single, early-morning rotation per day to maintain the equipment. The key I need in this tower will allow us another rotation."

Han nodded, glancing out a small window as they raced down the steps. The Naboo countryside was deceptively peaceful. There were no visible signs of troops here . . . yet.

Abruptly, Yané exited the stairs through an archway and raced through a dimly lit maze of tall shelves, each filled with scrolls and ancient texts. As he ran, Han noticed the stale smell of mildew and rotting flimsy, "What's with all the old papers and books?"

She answered, turning a corner, not looking back to him, "It's the Royal Archives. Historical papers, texts, treaties, doctrines and agreements from our history are stored and studied here."

Han raised an eyebrow as he raced after her.

"Up ahead, we're almost there" she said, approaching a large door. She wrapped her hands around a heavy metal ring that hung from the front of the massive wooden door, "I need your help!"

Han holstered his blaster and grabbed the ring alongside her, pulling as hard as they could. Slowly the door gave way and opened. It was dark inside, but she needed no light. Her memory was amazing, and she pictured the inside of the chamber in her mind from the last time she worked in here. Her hands ran over shadowy stacks of small boxes, containers and flimsy in the blackness until they came to lie on the small metal box she saw so clearly in her head.

She grabbed it and pushed past Han into the light, placing it on a table. Opening the lid revealed several bound stacks of flimsy along with schematics and plans. She moved these aside, revealing two medium sized keys, which she quickly lifted out of the box. "Come on, let's go. We have to get to the courtyard below and follow the alleyway to the next tower." She hurried away with Han following.

They raced back through the tall shelves to the stairwell and descended. The clattering of Han's boots on the stone steps echoed loudly as they finally reached the bottom. Yané led him out of the tower into the grassy courtyard. Stone columns flanked them on both sides, and as they headed along the grassy walkway toward the stone alleyway ahead, blaster fire erupted from across the courtyard, toppling a column to their right, the stone blocks falling to the ground in a pile. Han tried to find the source as he pushed Yané behind the rubble and drew his blaster, returning fire.

Several of his shots hit the top of a small stone wall, behind which he had seen at least one trooper. He saw the dome of the trooper's head begin to rise up again and discharged another blast, this one searing through the Impervium helmet between the eye lenses, cleaving the trooper's head inside. He fell like a stone, sprawled across the top of the wall as another of the Empire's finest stood and fired a repeating rifle at them. Han fired back, forcing the trooper to cover behind the stone barricade as he grabbed Yané's arm and ran toward the alley ahead, blasting with each step, covering their movements.

They raced down the narrow stone alley, Han watching behind them as they came to an intersection. The wall before them had a round window at street level and two rectangular ones above, with curved tops.

"The Pilot's quarters! Those are the Pilot's quarters." she said, getting her bearings. "This way! The secondary tunnel is located beneath them. Hurry!" She took off running down the narrow stone path to the right. "We aren't far from the Royal Hangar."

Blaster fire erupted once more from behind them, riddling the stone wall where they had been standing, shattering the round window as they turned the corner. The retired handmaiden raced up to a doorway in the stone building and pulled it open as several crimson and cobalt beams seared past them. Han turned and fired off several shots as Yané disappeared inside.

Several troop transports appeared overhead as he jumped up the steps, catching the door, and took out two pursuing troopers before pulling it closed behind him. "Cover your eyes" he yelled, turning his head. A bright red flash erupted in the darkness between his blaster and the door latch, fusing it together. "That oughta hold them for a while. Where's this tunnel? We've gotta get through before the boys in white catch up to us. Have you still got the keys?"

She nodded, holding them up, "Come on, it's this way".

Outside, the ground troops bounded up the stairs, attempting to open the door as one of the transports landed in the alley behind them. "He's fused the lock. Blow the hinges!"

The troopers stepped back and all took aim at the hinges. "Now!"

They all opened fire simultaneously, blasting through the ancient door pinnings, dropping it from the hinges in a cloud of smoke. They raced over it into the darkness with the new reinforcements joining them now.

"This way!"

"I can see where Bria got her fire" yelled Han as they stepped off the last of the stairs.

Yané smiled as she activated the door controls, sliding open the multiple layers of a blast door, "Her Father taught her to shoot, and both her Mother and I taught her to be strong, the rest was all her." She stepped through into a cold, duracrete room. As soon as Solo was through, she activated the door controls. They slid closed behind her as she spoke, "There's a long corridor over there. It was used as an access tunnel, for getting equipment in and out while the power plant was being built."

She watched as the last of the multiple layers of the blast door came together, and locked it, "I hope this door holds." She turned to look across to the tunnel Han was already looking into, "We'll be exposed with no place to hide or take cover."

A scowl crossed his face, "We sure will."

The tunnel was wide enough to fly a snubship through and twice Chewie's height, with a curved ceiling.

He turned and blasted the door controls twice, metal parts from the blown control clanging on the floor, "C'mon. We need to get to the other end of this before they get through or we're dead." The pair took off running into the darkness of the passageway.

Having successfully passed through the treacherous, chaotic asteroid field in the outer orbital fringe of the system with little damage, the rebel cruiser sailed smoothly toward the 6th and outermost planet of the Hoth system.

Under the ever watchful eyes of her bodyguards and personal aid, Alia, the leader of the rebel forces, Mon Mothma, returned to her seat as turbulence began to rattle the transport ship upon entry into the upper atmosphere. She peered out the port window as storm clouds far below raged across the ground with blizzard force, blasting fresh snow and ice across the frozen rivers, mountains and valleys on the wasteland of the planet below.

While the five planets closer to the Hoth sun were lifeless and primarily made up of toxic gases, Hoth VI was marginally hospitable for humans. Its axial tilt, orbital position and atmospheric makeup allowed life to exist, but was also cause for constant subzero temperatures. While the daytime temperature high hovered around -32 degrees standard, at night, those temperatures often plunged as low as -60 degrees, with gale force wind chills far surpassing that.

As much as she hated to admit it, this location for a base might just be crazy enough to work. While Snowtrooper units were plentiful in the Imperial forces, even the Empire never bothered with an outpost here, and for good reason. Any minerals that might be found here could be found elsewhere across the galaxy without the environmental hassle.

Two heavily armed Y-wing escort ships flanked the slow-moving transport as it began its descent into the atmosphere, following the transmitted glide path route toward ground coordinates somewhere on the inhospitable surface below.

She turned away from the window, thoughts racing through her mind. Touching Alia's arm, she leaned in closer to whisper, "Has anyone heard from Garm Bel Iblis?"

The aid dropped her gaze and shook her head, "No, milady. Admiral Ackbar had a long meeting with him regarding his concerns for your leadership, but he has not been heard from since that time."

The rebel leader closed her eyes and leaned back into the seat cushions. She turned again to the window, looking out across the stars and planet below. "You know, his accusations are unfounded. I have no interest in removing Palpatine only to replace him with myself. Bail Organa was my counterpart, co-leadership for what has become the Alliance. His murder along with the loss of Alderaan was shocking and tragic to the Alliance as a whole as well as to me personally, and left me with few options. I took over leadership control of the rebellion in a move to unify it and hold it together, not to seize personal power, and certainly not to alienate anyone, least of all Garm Bel Iblis."

She turned to her aid and stared in her eyes as she spoke now, "I need you to know and believe that . . . feel that."

Alia replied, "I have known that from the start, and do not question your dedication or intentions."

Mon Mothma nodded slowly, smiling.

The crisp view outside the port window suddenly clouded over stark white, and the ship violently bucked as it descended into the heart of the storm's wrath.

The newly-added rubber treads on the bottom of the fussy protocol 'droid's metallic feet fell silently on the duracrete planks of the hastily laid floor as he made his way through the rough ice corridor. Illuminators hung from wires wrapped around spikes that had been hammered into the ice walls to light the passage. Ahead, it opened into what was scheduled to become a central hangar for speeders and snub fighters.

These uneven walls of the narrow hallway had been carved from a solid wall of beautiful deep blue ice, and at any other time might have interested the easily-distracted golden 'droid, but none of this concerned him as he searched frantically for Princess Organa, muttering to himself, "If only R2 hadn't gone with master Luke. He would know where to find mistress Leia. Dear, oh dear, I can feel the oil in my joints thickening. Whoever had the brilliant idea for coming to an ice planet must have never . . . Princess Leia! Oh, thank the maker!"

The familiar image of the Princess stood several meters ahead of him reviewing plans for the hangar with the crew chief of the ice cutters. She heard Threepio approaching behind, but maintained her focus on the page, "This looks fine" she said, "but see if you can add a connecting corridor here to the command center, and small alcoves for the T-47 airspeeders we have on the way."

"Airspeeders?" questioned the crew chief. "Princess Leia I've worked with those Incom speeders before and in this environment . . ."

She cut him off as quickly as he had started, "Yes, I know, they aren't designed for this type of climate. I'm assured, though, that with slight modifications we can adapt them to work quite well."

The crew leader rolled up the plans and headed back toward several massive shearing machines and his crew, "Alright everybody, we've got a lot to get done, and there are some new changes to the design, gather 'round here so we can discuss them before we get started." The men climbed down out of the cutters as he spread the plans out on a small ice shelf.

Leia watched him go and then turned around, "Yes Threepio, what is it?"

"The transport ship is on final approach."

Leia looked away from the 'droid as she answered, "Mon Mothma. Threepio, have a mid-sized, heated troop transport dispatched to the landing coordinates to meet her and her staff. Inform the pilot to bring them here and escort them to my chambers. All other supplies can remain in the ship's hold until needed."

"Yes, mistress Leia."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 – Darkness and Light**

"By all that's holy, I hope it's GOOD AND COLD _somewhere_ in the galaxy!" spewed Blade, sweat dripping from his brow as he removed his helmet. "This pack can't be working. I'm not cooling down at all." Holstering his E-11 and unsnapping the straps that held the pack against his back, he walked over to a low, stone wall that skirted the upper edge of one of the docking bay pits. He set it down on the wall as 1265, who had been walking ahead of him, stopped and circled back.

Blade had several small compartments open, trying to figure out the cause of the problem. He traced over the braided, snake-like wiring harnesses with his finger looking for burnouts, but found none. He glanced over a bank of fuses which were all still intact, and kept looking as 1265 leaned in closer, looking over his shoulder, "What's wrong with it?"

"I'm not sure" he said frustrated, "It just stopped working." He closed the compartment covers and flipped the malfunctioning environmental pack over on its' side, pressing a status button just below several cylinders mounted up near the top. The indicator panel adjacent to it did not light. He raised his hand up and gave the cylinders an abrupt whack, then tried the status button again with still no results. He exhaled sharply, "Damn power cells are dead. I just had new ones put in three months ago!" He pressed the status button again; nothing. "I guess I'll have to replace them."

1265 Shook his helmeted head, turning away, glancing down the street ahead of them, "Only the finest Imperial gear for us hardworking troops, huh?" He turned his head in the opposite direction to look back the way they had come, "We just passed the little parts shop Deckard used for his 'droid parts. They've probably got some power cells that would work. If you want to go back and see, I'll do the marketplace loop and meet you back here."

Squinting his sweat-filled eyes in the bright afternoon sunslight, Blade looked back toward the parts shop, "Yeah, OK" he said nodding his head, "I'll see you back here shortly."

With a soft click, the transparent holo-card ejected from the slot in the reader. Felth retrieved it, placing it on the stack of others he had already scanned through. He documented the contents on his datapad, and inserted the next card as the sound of the lift, lowering to this lower cache level, broke the near-silence.

Moments later, the noise subsided. Danz and Topolev entered the room, followed by Holder. Topolev, not seeing Felth yet, walked ahead of the others toward the rows of racking that held supplies, crates and equipment, "Down here. This is where we found you."

Holder followed him over to the dusty shelves where he crouched down, surveying the contents of the shelf. A few power cells remained, sitting next to several long rolls of cloth, tied with a cord. The shelf above held a rations crate that Etz had unloaded upon their initial arrival, alongside a small crate of blasters and energy clips.

Felth began the scan of the new holo-card, "Now it's a party."

Danz twisted his head around to see Felth seated before the reader, his face bathed in blue light from the menu screen of the reader, "Anything interesting on those things, Felth?"

Not looking away from the advancing images on the screen, Felth replied, "Not really. There's some surveillance, some arrest records, some testimonials and depositions; pretty boring, actually."

Danz nodded, turning his attention back on Holder.

The thawed Republic Commando stood up from his crouch, a scowl across his face. "I know I should remember all this, but it's just a big blank."

Topolev slapped him on the shoulder, "I'm sure it'll come back eventually. Still a little foggy up there?" he said as he tapped his temple.

The Commando smiled a bit, nodding, "Yeah. You could say that. Some things are crystal clear . . . others like they never existed."

Danz began pulling the power cells off the racking from the opposite side, "OK, Rogue wants these racks stripped down and gone through. It's time we found out exactly what's down here."

As they began removing the stored items and stacking them on the floor, Felth spoke up, "Now that you mention it, where is Rogue?"

Topolev looked over as he placed a small case of sonic charges on the growing stack, "He and 0600 went out to the Darklighter estate; seems 'ole Huff has had some Tusken activity. They went to talk to him and check out the crime scene."

"Oh, OK", said Felth returning his attention to the reader's small screen and the recorded holo-image of Garindan in the densely-packed murk of Jabba's court. The darkly-shrouded Kubaz in the holo received a small pouch of money and what looked like several wrapped sticks of spice. His eyes narrowed a bit as he watched, thinking to himself, 'He's getting paid. The snitch's playing both sides."

The Naboo sky, which had been afire with bold, flaming orange light, was now growing dark. The sparse clouds were highlighted with rich pink and purple strokes along their edges as the sun receded below the horizon. Imperial troops stood guard in the Capital Square, along the lakefront and the open expanse of the closed riverfront.

The dark Sith Lord stood rock solid on the bridge of the _**Intruder**_ watching his troops and ground assault vehicles below, wreaking havoc in the streets of Theed. As they had arrived, the transponder signal had been snuffed out, obviously making the search more difficult. However, a small group of his troops had made visual contact with someone matching the description of Captain Solo and were in pursuit.

He surveyed one of the royal courtyards and the ruinous remains of the monuments to the past monarchs. If Solo had been spotted, the Wookiee and their ship would not be far removed. Somewhere deep in his brain, far beneath the shiny surface of his forbidding black helmet, he remembered standing in that very courtyard with a trailing padawaan's braid, at a ceremony of peace, eyeing his angel in far happier times.

He felt a sharp twinge in the passages of his nose and damaged glands trying hard to produce tears as he recalled the image of her, the smell of her. He was already turning and striding from the room as he barked out his command, "Captain, have my shuttle readied. I'm going down to the surface."

The Corellian pilot and the Royal Handmaiden raced through the near darkness of the long tunnel. The faint light they had seen in the distance was now growing larger and larger.

Yané was running ahead of him and he quickly turned to look back. No one had followed them . . . yet. "Where will this tunnel empty out?" shouted Han.

She kept running, replying as best she could between panting breaths, "There's . . . a blast door . . . at the other end. Puts us in . . . the water spillway tunnel. Not far from there. Eventually the spill tunnel empties out just behind the Western falls".

Han pulled the commlink from his belt as he ran, "Chewie?"

There was a moment of silence followed by static, then his co-pilot barked a response. He keyed the comm again as he ran, "This is what I want you to do . . ."

Blade squatted, rummaging through the power packs in the container on the bottom shelf of a rack as the shop owner watched for a moment, and then returned to his work behind the counter.

"Vibroblade . . . nope. Repulsor lift . . . nope. Swoop . . . nope. Loadlifter . . . nope. Vaporator . . . nope. Ahhh, what's this?" He held up a small set of cylindrical power cells, wrapped in shrink-seal. A flat ribbon of wires hung from the bottom of the pack with a small connector at the end. Placing it on the ground, he turned to his pack and pulled off the faulty power cells and laid them beside his find. "Looks like a match to me."

As he spoke, a shadowy drape of a figure slunk from a dim corner of the shop looking left and right, then coming to stand behind him. Blade noted the shadow on the ground a moment before he felt the gloved hand on his shoulder armor, and stood abruptly, dropping the battery pack as he whirled around. He drew his blaster in a fluid motion and grabbed the dark character by the neck, slamming him back against the rack of small parts on the opposite side of the aisle, blaster muzzle firmly beneath his jaw. "What can I do for you, friend? That's a quick way to find yourself dead with a smoking hole through your head."

The shop owner jumped up from behind the front counter, straining to see down the aisle at what was happening, "Everything OK back there?"

Blade kept his eyes locked on the dark figure now in his grip as he replied, "We're fine back here . . . all fine." Sweat ran down his nose and dripped to the floor.

The owner scrutinized them both with tired, worn eyes, finally throwing up his hands and reluctantly returning to his work, looking back every few moments.

Blade's eyes narrowed to slits, "Wait a minute . . ." his brow furrowing as he concentrated harder, memories scrolling at a blazing pace though his mind, "I've seen you before . . . just never this close, am I right?"

Every part of the figure's face was hidden beneath black wraps and cloth, save a slit, from behind which wide eyes stared. Blade pulled away the wraps, revealing the creature's face. She was human, and shaking, flicking her eyes down to his hand still firmly wrapped around her throat. He loosened his grip slightly. "I was hired by your father to trail you . . . move you out of areas that were likely to fall, reassign you to more stable beats."

Blade's mind reeled, "You work for the Empire? For my father?"

The woman nodded her head nervously.

'So it was you I saw on Dantooine, Anzat, Troiken . . . and on the _**Devastator**_ . . . as I was boarding the drop ship?"

Again she nodded, small beads of perspiration forming across her face.

"How long have you been watching me?"

He loosened his grip more, removing his hand completely now, but keeping the muzzle of the blaster pressed under her jaw. Turning her head a bit, she slowly and cautiously raised her hand, rubbing her throat as her other hand slipped the draped hood wraps off, revealing a fair-skinned face and long, thick auburn hair.

Her quivering red lips parted and she spoke in a soft voice, "I've been following you since the incident in the bar on Coruscant." She watched carefully for his reaction.

He closed his eyes tightly, listening as she continued.

"My involvement with your father, however, began several years before that. I was his personal assistant and liaison for private business dealings throughout the core systems as well as branching out to some of the fringe worlds."

Blade opened his eyes slightly, "Private business dealings?"

She looked past him now, as she relayed her story, "Although he was an officer, he still maintained a very quiet, very civilian business. Your father sent me from our assigned post on Balmorra to attend a mining guild trade show on a new low-orbit platform city above Bespin. It was a long journey in a sub-light military ship, but I had been made as comfortable as possible. It was a cargo shipment, so aside from the crew, I had most of the ship to myself. My private quarters even had a large viewport.

The final approach to the city was amazing. The ship was shaking; being rocked by strong crosswinds as we flew through billowing white clouds. Finally we broke through a cloudbank revealing the expansive skyline completely in silhouette, with the setting sun behind them.

When we landed, I was escorted directly to the trade arena where I met with many representatives of the Mining Guild. We ate and drank and talked late into the night, and the more intoxicated they became, the more flirtatious they became. A bit too flirtacious and "hands on" for my liking. While that was the one aspect of the job that I hated, it was also the one aspect of the job that did the trick. I wrote several lucrative contracts at my table that night between drinks and dances, securing huge contracts of work for your father.

The sun was coming up as the party was ending, but I headed off to sleep nonetheless. Exhausted, I found the way to my room and let myself in. I was too tired to fully appreciate it, but the room and the views from it were breathtaking. Your father had spared no expense to make sure I was comfortable on the trip.

Blade interrupted her, "I don't understand what any of this has or had to do with me."

Her beautiful eyes flicked over to meet his, "I was coming to that point. It was during the timeframe of that trip that you had your altercation in the bar on Coruscant, and your unit leader died. I was immediately recalled from Bespin, and your father reassigned me from my previous duties to the full time detail following you and your assignments."

Blade's head hurt as he shook it slowly, "You've been watching me from a distance for this long . . . so, why are you approaching me now?"

Her eyes stared squarely into his as she took a deep breath and responded, "One standard week ago your father sent me an urgent communiqué regarding a recent discovery. Imperial Intelligence intercepted a portion of a garbled transmission that has now been linked to suspected rebel activity. The transmission originated here, on Tatooine and contained sensitive information. Your father knows you were assigned here and wanted you to be alerted to a possible spy and rebel sympathizer among those in your group."

Blade stepped away from her, switching off the power to his weapon, holstering it. She knelt, picking up the power supply he had dropped, "Is your pack malfunctioning?" Her eyes were sympathetic and sincere.

He was pulled out of his daze by her comment, "What?"

A wiring harness dangled from the shrink-sealed part, "New power cell for your pack?" she asked.

He stared out the window to the street outside, absently responding to her question as he rolled her revelation over in his head, "Yeah. My pack's dead . . . won't cool my . . . won't cool my body glove."

She grabbed up the replacement power cell and walked to the front counter, pulling out a small bag of credits and purchased the cannibalized part. The shopkeeper spoke up as he took her money, shooting a glance down the aisle to Blade and his environmental backpack, "This cell wasn't made for that pack specifically, but there were several design generations that all took the same core cells. Your friend's is one of them."

She picked the power cell up from the counter, "Thank you."

Blade uncoupled the old wiring harness, removing the dead cells as she handed him the new, "Thanks."

He took the new cell and firmly pressed the cable connector into the socket on the back of the pack, slipped the cells under the restraining clip, and flipped the switch. Instantly needles on the power meters pegged over to the full indicator.

He connected the leads to his body glove and slipped one arm through a shoulder strap, pulling the pack on, "Did your emergency communiqué happen to mention who the potential traitor was?" He pulled his other arm through and adjusted the pack on his back.

"No", she began, "there was very little information to go on, but we know it originated here, and based on the knowledge of Imperial operations, it had to have been one of the troopers in your unit."

Blade saw 1265 approaching from the direction of the marketplace. "Cover your face back over, one of the other troopers is coming, and almost here." He nodded in the direction of the street. She turned to see the other trooper heading their way.

"Did you just arrive, or have you been staying somewhere?" asked Blade

She pulled the black drapes back over her face, "I have a room at the Dowager Queen, number nine."

He nodded, "Keep the room. I'll meet with you sometime in the next few days. Hide."

She nodded and slipped toward the back of the room, suddenly becoming keenly interested in a bin of thrust bias sequencers.

1265 entered the shop, "You slacker, I did the whole loop _**AND**_ waited for you. What took so long? You find what you needed?"

Blade nodded once, "Just getting it powered up and working now."

"OK, let's get moving, we still have the rest of the spaceport to do, and I'm beat. You're doing the storage bays."

"No problem. Let's do it.", Blade responded following the other trooper back into the blazing heat in the streets. He felt the cooling waves in his body suit spring to life properly as he watched the dark-shrouded woman slink out of the shop heading the other way toward the _Dowager Queen_. Was it 1265 who was leaking information? It could be any one of them; he had no way of knowing who he could trust. He thought back to his earlier conversation with them out in the desert:

"_In the guard you're trained to watch everyone, even each other. Being a trooper in the field, your unit is all that you have. You have to depend on each other. That's the way it should be, just bear in mind, nothing personal, but until I'm more comfortable, I'm watching each of you . . . closely. We all must have reasons we were assigned here. It certainly isn't the best post in the Empire."_

Blade beat himself up for lowering his guard too readily. He watched 1265 walking just ahead of him . . . it was a mistake he would not be duplicating.

Yané kept her grip tight on the two keys as they drew near to the end of the access tunnel. As expected, the blast doors here were locked tight. She moved to the control panel and withdrew the first key, inserting it into the lock. It turned halfway and refused to go any further. She halfway turned her head to Han, "See if you can . . ."

He had been watching and stepped up before she could finish, grasping the key, twisting it with all his strength. The stubborn key slowly yielded as he continued intense pressure on it. Finally it gave way and finished its rotation. He pulled the key out as the massive, first layer of the doors opened. When they had retracted fully, a second lumbering set began opening, followed by a third and fourth finally revealing a dark passageway beyond.

Yané darted into the darkness. Han followed through the doors, eyebrows raised as he examined the black space beyond, hearing and smelling water. Once through, he used the key to initiate the closing and locking of the doors behind them. The handmaiden had moved from his side was moving along a metal railing toward the enormous circular water spillway door. She put a hand out, running it down over the stone to find the keyhole. Once located, she inserted the second key, turning it with ease.

As she withdrew it, a thundering sound issued from the wall before them as the gargantuan stone door began to rotate slowly. As soon as the opening came into view in it, they heard water rushing through below the railing, down in a canal below them. Once the opening had revolved enough for them to pass, they both slipped through as it continued to turn.

The grinding sound continued for a total of three minutes until the door had completed a full revolution and locked securely. The water ceased to stream through, and what had come through now flowed away from them, down the tunnel ahead. The darkness of the channel was broken by lights several hundred meters ahead.

"We better get moving. Even with these doors in place, if they want to follow us, and they do, they'll find a way.

The two took off running toward the lights, the sound of their footfalls echoing in the circular passage.

I closed my eyes, silently breathing shallow breaths in and out as I waited for the sound of the closing door. I could hear the faint swishing and rustling of clothing as the pilot moved around somewhere above. There was a clinking sound, presumably as he gathered up some of his new belongings, and then nothing. Finally I heard the door close and latch securely. As I sat in the darkness beneath the trapdoor, knowing the young rebel had gathered his things and gone, the nagging idea of letting him go kept twisting itself over and over in my mind.

I didn't really consider it backing down, as I felt very strongly that we hadn't seen the last of our Rebel visitor, and I was allowing him to leave. If he was comfortable coming here, my keeping watch on Kenobi's home could ultimately pay off more in the long run by not arresting or killing the young farmboy turned activist pilot.

There was only silence as I remained still, listening. I had to be sure he was gone, and not have been deceived into thinking he had.

The transparisteel canopy of the snub fighter lowered into place, securing airlock seals as the power plants for the four main thrusters came online with a throaty hum, blasting a fine spray of sand away from downward facing ported exhaust vents. As they did, monitoring instrumentation in the cockpit flickered on, and the little astromech that had been in sleep mode while charging, came back on-line. Its dome swiveled left and right back and forth as a string of tones, beeps and whistles issued forth, followed by a sort of electronic belching before it fell silent.

"Okay R2", said the pilot as he lifted the helmet from his lap and fitted his head inside snugly, adjusting the chinstrap, "Now I know how you feel about being switched off while charging. It won't happen again, but that just means a slow-trickle charge in the future, you know."

Several beeps flew back in response and the insolent little blue 'droid swiveled his dome around to face the rear of the craft as its weight gently lifted from the landing gear on the invisible cushion of increasing repulsor intensity.

Still and silent in the dark recess, I heard drive engines firing in the distance, signaling the young rebel's departure. I threw open the trapdoor and climbed up the few crude stone steps, moving quickly to the front door. Opening it slightly, I could see thin, white, vaporous trails left by the engines of the disappearing X-wing in sharp contrast against the deep azure of the crystal clear Tatooine sky.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 – The Taste of Truth**

As the running Corellian and the Handmaiden came to the end of the man-made tunnel, the opening narrowed; the walls now those of a jagged, raw cave in the cliff side.

"This is the original cave, it's not far now." She smiled.

Faint echoes of raucous squawks and blaster fire erupted from behind them in the cave.

Han looked around as they hurriedly splashed through the shallow water and over irregular stones, "Good. They're getting closer . . . and I think they just stomped through that nest of Peko-pekos we avoided." He hurried over the stone floor, following her, "I thought this place was man-made for controlling water diversion, what's with the cave all of a sudden?"

She paused, resting against an upward thrust stone in the floor, "Engineers left the last bit of it in its natural state so as not to interfere with the cliff wall behind the falls. Only one problem . . ."

He closed his eyes, "And that is?"

She paused, then continued "It leads to a sheer drop where it ends."

He laughed in agony, slowly twisting away from her, "Ha ha ha, son of a . . ."

"There's quite a bit of room between the cliff face and the actual falling water, though. We could climb down." She offered.

Suddenly he turned back to her . . . a glint of mischief in his squinting eye and his face curled up in a grin that stretched from one ear to the other as he shook an index finger in the air, "That just might work". He unclipped the comm from his belt and clicked it on once more, "Chewie, scrap that first plan, pal. I thought we were going to be coming out down closer to the platform."

The Wook barked a response.

Han keyed his comm again, "I know you can do this, buddy. This is what we're going to do. I want you to go open the top hatch . . ."

A blast of white vapor blew from the shuttle's release valves across the ramp. The Dark Lord slowed his pace slightly, taking the last steps off to the cobblestones of the lakeside courtyard. He had not been here since . . . well, those long ago days of his youth and innocence, when so many things had seemed to happen all at once; Qui-gon's death, his introduction to Palpatine, becoming Obi-Wan's padawaan, and seeing his angel in her stunning white ceremonial gown . . . his angel.

The heart beneath his armor, squeezed in beside cybernetic respirators, ached more with each step he took. Even the air of this place weighed heavily on his shoulders, pressing down on his mechanical legs with a weight that threatened to crush him . . . again; haunting the very core of him with memories of those first, early days with her, those early feelings of his love for her; a child's love, but love nonetheless.

Smoke and dust lingered in the air here from the initial invasion. His troops had raced in on swoops and All-Terrain walkers dispersing the crowds from their tributes. Debris littered the ground surrounding the monuments. The bust of Queen Jamila had been toppled from its stone pillar among those of her Senators and lay in several pieces, a powdery mark stained the ground where it had fallen and split apart; her face cleaved down the center and across the forehead.

Vader stepped over the stone pieces, moving forward in search of the one that honored her predecessor, Queen Amidala.

In addition to the official tributes to past royalty, small private shrines, honoring those lost on Alderaan, littered the courtyard. Flickering lamps illuminated photos of, and letters to, loved ones lost. Flowers reverently positioned in memory of lives shattered alongside personal effects that had been carefully placed and arranged now lay in scattered disarray; all of them broken, painful reminders of where his twisting dark path had led him.

The near-silence of the courtyard was broken only by the cold sounds of his cycling, mechanical respirator sucking air in, and releasing with deep exhales. The daylight was fading and all but gone as he wound his way through the rubble searching for her. The broken, graffiti-covered bust of Senator Palpatine appeared, but he did not see his queen. Just as he began to fear her likeness had been destroyed, he saw the gentle lines of his beauty's face emerge from behind a curtain of smoke. The stone had captured her beauty with amazing detail; the graceful curve of her cheek; hair spilling over delicate shoulders; her long neck. The white stone carving captured her beauty, her spirit just as he remembered.

He stepped around the statue of Palpatine and moved closer. The last of the day's light revealed the subtle nuances and highlights of the polished stone bust as the man who had fallen from grace, right hand to the Emperor, destroyer of the Jedi and countless lives and worlds in his wake, bent his cybernetic leg and knelt among the flowers laid around her monument; knelt before the ghostly image of his lost beloved. The idea of her giving birth to their son in her last moments without him raced through his thoughts as his tired, helmeted head lowered before her timeless beauty.

It was in that heart-wrenching moment on his knee, with burning, damaged eyes that no longer formed tears that he connected the pieces together, realizing how his fears had been used against him all those years ago. Searching his thoughts deeper, it became clear that in those first hazy moments when he had asked about her with a new, enhanced voice that was not his own, and stepped awkwardly away from that ghastly operating table . . . that altar . . . that dark threshold he had crossed; Palpatine had lied to him about his wife's death, and his role in it.

The self-inflicted guilt and agony in that moment and every moment to follow was the skillful handiwork of his master, sculpted to be the perfect control mechanism for his new Sith apprentice.

His mind raced and the deeply raging Force currents contorting through and around him were agitated to the point of near illumination.

The sound of rushing water had now grown much louder, and ahead, Han saw light from beyond the jagged cave mouth which, mere steps ahead, opened to a sheer drop down the cliff face. He and Yané walked as far as they could along the stones at the base of the cave walls, then Han stepped down into the shallow water, helping the handmaiden do the same. As they moved through the calf-deep water they could now see the last remnants of the fading daylight glowing from the far side of the furious downward-blasting wall of water ahead. A cool misty spray hung heavy in the air, escaping from the torrential waterfalls downpour. Yané tried to yell to Han, asking him how he planned to move ahead, but the roaring sound was so deafening she couldn't even hear her own words.

A rough wind, which raced down the cliff face, tugged at the Corellian pilot's hair and shirt violently as he held on tight to the rocks with one hand and leaned out to peer down the cliff. The rushing air was heavy with a fine mist. He felt it on his skin and tasted it as he whispered to himself, "Come on buddy".

As he did, the protruding front forks of the Millennium Falcon appeared, rising slowly up past the mouth of the cave. The jutting cockpit slid into view as his ship inched its way further up the cliff. The Wookiee, seated inside facing skyward, shook his head, bared his teeth and roared in the cockpit as he fought the straining controls to maintain this inverted, near hovering attitude. It took every ounce of his incredible strength and piloting skills to balance repulsor fields pushing to keep the 'Falcon away from the rocks of the cliff face yet not out far enough to be caught in the thundering power of the falls, and control the drive thrust to hold a semi-steady vertical position.

Even the straining roar of the Falcon's main drive engines were drowned out by the heart-pounding concussion of the falling water barricade which just barely skimmed and sprayed across the underbelly of the 'Falcon on the far side.

As the ship inched higher, the top hatch came into sight. As soon as he saw it opened and waiting, Solo turned and grabbed Yané, holding her ear close to his mouth as he yelled to be heard, motioning to the open hatch with his free hand, "We're going in there."

She looked around him, then nodded her head.

Chewie, straining to lean his head back and watch the top hatch as it moved into position just opposite them, stopped his climb, holding the ship steady as it slid into place.

Han held one arm as Yané stepped from the rocky cliff to the small opening. She half jumped and half fell into the small port, landing on the rungs of the internal ladder. Grabbing onto the rim of the opening, she turned herself around and began her descent into the ship. He watched her go as the ship drifted up and down. His first mate fought to hold her still. He held the comm tight in his hand, ready to give Chewie the OK once onboard.

Yané finally reached the bottom and Han reached out with his free hand grabbing the rim of the hatch opening. In an eruption of flashes, several crimson blaster bolts impacted the hull beside him, scorching the metal. He snapped his head around to see Stormtroopers advancing on him. He squeezed down on the comm as he dove headfirst into the open hatch port, "Chewie get us outta here now!"

Another round of fire pelted the hull as he pulled his feet inside and slapped the control panel, sealing the hatch.

Chewie howled, throwing several control levers straight forward. As he did, the front forks of the ship sharply pitched outward, falling away from the cliff, into the crashing water, which instantly flipped the ship over violently, jerking the controls from the Wookiees hands, sending them tumbling down the cliff side.

Yané was thrown across the floor into the bulkhead and Han, inside the ladder tunnel, fell one way toward the deck, then was flung back up into the upper hatch, then down again toward the deck, only to be thrown back into the hatch as the ship was rolled over and over, "OW! Chewie!"

The ground below was rising up fast as the plummeting freighter continued to roll. Finally the skilled Wookiee was able to get his bearings enough to time the firing of the main drive engines. In a momentary flash, the dark waters of the huge falls lit up a brilliant white-blue, and shipyard workers on the landing pad below, turned to watch as the _**Millennium Falcon**_ burst out of the falling water just above them. Water sprayed from her gleaming hull across them, her main engines snarling like a singing buzz saw.

Luckily Chewie had judged correctly, throwing the ship out into the air, and not the other direction, accelerating into the cliff. He followed his initial instincts, setting an escape course toward the dense forests and open fields here below the falls, away from the direction of the capital city and the star destroyer stationed in the airspace just above it. Without warning, from among the dense trees below, several rounds of fire unexpectedly pummeled the 'Falcons underbelly.

The Wook flipped the ship up on its side and came around hard right, taking more jarring fire. Amidst the foliage, he was able to see dozens of scattered Imperial all-terrain transport walkers, their guns tracking to lock on to the moving target. Without thinking, he immediately initiated a climb, away from the walkers, but immediately noted the faint, hazy outline of a second destroyer, high up in the atmosphere.

With bared teeth, he reluctantly banked away, rolling the 'Falcon over twice, climbing through an inverted arc that took them up and over the top of the falls heading toward Theed. He rolled the ship back to a normal attitude as he switched on the nav' computer and keyed in a destination code. His mind raced through the rapidly escalating situation. A destroyer down here, in-atmo, was a lot less threat than one that could quickly lock on, giving chase off-planet.

Han fell head-first out of the ladder tunnel to the deck plates with a solid, metallic thud; the comm in his hand skittering away across the metal panels on impact. Yané moved in quickly to help him up. In the cockpit, his co-pilot threw the ship up on one side as they banked away, avoiding a barrage of blaster canon fire coming from several all-terrain walkers, tearing over the waterfront plaza where, far below, Vader knelt on one knee in the middle of the crumbled remains of the memorials.

As the already angered Sith Lord raised his head, he saw the object of his search slip away yet again. The already aggravated and volatile Force currents boiling around him now violently exploded outward, blasting all flowers, memorials and debris away from where he knelt in the epicenter.

In an unleashing of rage, he threw himself to his feet, his cape and robes billowing in the wind as he drew his lightsaber, ignited it with an angry snap of his wrist, and threw himself at the bust of Palpatine, slashing the stone likeness to shreds with blurring, hacking strokes of the snarling blade. Smoke curled away from the pieces of molten stone now lying on the ground, as he regained his composure. His cycling mechanical respirator raggedly sucked air in, and released it with deep exhales.

Above the sprawling gardens and courtyards of the Royal Palace complex, a dozen TIE fighters abruptly broke patrol formation as their lead ship unexpectedly splintered into a ball of expanding, superheated gases and vaporized debris. The blurred shape of the _**Millennium Falcon**_ throttled up as it charged headlong through the shimmering fireball that had been its target; exploding from the licking flames, unpredictably pitching this way and that.

The broken, charred remains of the vanquished Imperial pilot had become entangled in the struts supporting the large radar dish mounted on the ship's upper hull. The _**'Falcon**_ rolled over several times narrowly avoiding the deadly blasts of heavy fire now coming from the main guns of the Star Destroyer, _**Intruder, **_just ahead. As it did so, the body of the dead pilot worked itself free of the radar dish assembly, tumbled and slid back across the hull of the ship and was vaporized in a flash by the main drive engines, leaving nothing more than a brief streak of black smoke in the sky.

The scattering Imperial fighters streaked away from the disintegrated ship, and each other, in large sweeping arcs. Their adrenaline-pumped pilots pulled each of their ships around, abruptly changing direction and re-grouping into a ravenous pack, racing through the skies above Theed, their twin Ion Engines howling like a hungry, animal symphony pursuing the fleeing _**Millennium Falcon**_.

Yané held her scarf pressed against the slice on Solo's scalp. Blood soaked the sheer cloth and ran down the side of his head. Somehow she had managed to drag him over from the stairwell and strap them both in at the gaming table before the rolling had begun again. Han reached back, pressing a wall-mounted comm unit which broadcast into the cockpit. "Chewie, turn on the grav-stabilizers!"

In the cockpit, the Wook looked up as he heard Solo's voice. He reached up to check the control lever, only to discover that the swinging chance cubes he had hung there had disengaged it. He quickly removed the dangling charms and re-activated the stabilizer. As he did so, the pursuing TIEs fired again, forcing him to roll away sharply. This time however, Yané and his captain would not be thrown around in the back of the ship, The Imperial fighters stuck to him closely as he rolled through the sky. Then he cut a hard left, breaking straight for the looming forward edge of the destroyer.

Chewie edged back on the throttle slightly, allowing the TIEs to get a bit closer as he skimmed over the hull of the _**Intruder**_, her cannons firing at him. The luminous, jade-colored energy bolts sizzled past, narrowly missing their mark as he adjusted the shield energy allocation forward. As the cannons squarely ahead fired again, he rocked the ship up on its side, allowing the blasts to blaze past, destroying two of the fighters on his tail. He veered suddenly, heading straight for another gun tower, rolling in a tight spiral as the fighter jocks on his tail fired, their attack streaming past, destroying the surface-mounted gun instead.

A panel indicator for the nav' computer began to flash and beep; the hyperspace route had finally been plotted. Another cannon quickly acquired the Corellian ship, blasting away. Chewie pulled back hard on the controls, throwing the _**'Falcon**_ into a steep climb as the blast slammed bluntly into the shields, rocking them violently. The TIEs clumsily attempted to follow, as the gun tower began spitting energy, tracking up away from the Destroyer's hull. The Wook, then threw the controls forward to center, stalling the drive engines, stopping all forward thrust and allowing the ship to slide into a full 180 degree rotation to the left. The TIEs all overshot him, flying past before realizing their error.

As soon as the grey, leading edge of the Destroyer's hull appeared against the black outside the cockpit window, Chewie slammed the controls forward with one hand, bringing the drive engines back online at maximum throttle, as he reallocated the shields to the rear with the other. There was a short blast of blue light from the main engines and the _**'Falcon**_ lunged toward the grey durasteel skin of the _**Intruder**_. The gun turret opened fire, spitting a non-stop barrage at the Corellian ship. As Chewie dove below the edge of the Destroyer, the blasts from the tracking gun turrets continued to follow, trailing repeated blasts into the skin of the Destroyer, searing holes through the durasteel of their own hull before stopping.

The second, orbiting destroyer was now moving into position to help. A flashing, yellow warning lamp blinked on the console in front of the Wook. He bared his teeth and growled angrily from far back in his throat. They were gaining, and readying their tractor beams.

Chewie rolled into a straight climb, heading for the edge of the atmosphere. The friction associated with a sudden acceleration to hyperspace here would incinerate the ship. As he aligned the ship with her pending nav' computer heading, a loud tone filled the cockpit, indicating all was set for the jump. Once they passed beyond the last fringes of atmo into the chill of space, his furry arms reached over for the three hyperdrive throttle levers. The two remaining TIEs were firing on their target as the _**Millennium Falcon**_ suddenly accelerated into a blurred flash and was gone. The streaming, green energy bolts flung from the fighters now merely sizzled into the empty space left in her wake.

A thick hazy veil of dust fell from the shelf above as Topolev threw open one of the numerous plastoid containers in the racks of the cache. Holder sneezed loudly once, then again and again in rapid succession. He wiped his face, then sneezed again a fourth time, clutching his chest. Danz spoke up, lightly touching his own chest briefly, then his forehead in a sweeping motion, "Gods of Eisley bless you" and continued working on the shelves across the aisle.

Topolev bent to one side and looked down to the lower shelf where Holder was, "You OK?"

Danz turned around to check on his new Sandtrooper brother, "What's wrong?"

The ex-Commando wheezed and clutched at his chest, "My lungs are burning."

Felth spoke up from across the room without turning his attention from the holo-viewer, "Carbon freeze . . . especially those of a long duration, create a heightened sensitivity in the lungs to dust and pollutants." Now pushing his chair back a bit, he turned to face the others. "The coughing and sneezing won't last long. The acquired sensitivity will go away in time, but based on how long you were in, I wouldn't expect it to be anytime soon."

Holder's breaths began to calm down as the dust dissipated and settled again. He looked up, then cocked his head around to Danz, "The Gods of Eisley?"

Danz looked back, "What?"

Topolev now peered over the shelf at Danz.

"Oh, you mean the Gods of Eisley thing?" said Danz. "Sorry, it's almost subconscious. It's something we said growing up as kids." He looked back at the others who were staring at him blankly now.

Topolev blurted out, "You grew up here?"

Danz burst out laughing, "Hell no! Eisley is a sacred temple complex where I grew up on Bestine IV, but . . . it _is_ tied to this place. Colonists from Bestine came here almost a century ago in search of a new place to settle."

Topolev cocked his head and squinted his eyes in disbelief, "Really."

"Yeah, really. You know that hotel in the middle of town, _The Dowager Queen"_

They nodded.

"That was their starship. When they crash landed here, Mos Espa was pretty much the only settlement in the region. The survivors of the crash built this city, originally calling it _Eisley_, for the sacred city back on Bestine. They added the prefix name _Mos_ later to blend in with the already established Mos Espa and to keep with local naming traditions. They also built the capital city, _Bestine_."

Topolev rested his arms on the edge of the plastoid container, "So, what is Bestine IV like? I've never been there."

The lift mechanism in the adjacent room activated and rose to the upper level as Danz paused a moment, remembering his homeworld, "Well, most of it is covered with water. The little bit of land that is available, is very rugged. Volcanic islands mostly, not much more than mountains and beaches. It's very beautiful, just not very hospitable. Our ancestors figured out long ago how to build on the cliffs and live in harmony with the jagged mountain spires."

As the cargo lift descended back to their level, Topolev listened, slightly nodding in agreement, "Hmmm, sounds great. I could use some time by a lot of water. It must be hard coming from a place like that to a place like this!"

1265 stood in the doorway flanked on one side by Blade, and on the other by me, both with our helmets and packs off, perspiration gleaming on our faces. "I wish I was in a place like that right about now" said 1265. Blade wiped his face as he leaned against one of the racks, "Me too brother. That trip around the spaceport was hotter than flying through the five fire rings of Fornax!"

Felth swiveled his chair around to face the group, "I just got a message from Rogue. It was a bit garbled, and broke off before he was finished. Anybody else get it?" He glanced around the small room, but everyone shook their heads no. "I guess I'll go topside and see if I can get better reception. This bunker must have some shielding in place."

Blade whipped his head around as Felth walked through the door to the lift, "Where is Rogue anyway?"

Felth looked back over his shoulder as he walked past them out of the room, "He and 0600 went over to Darklighter Water . . . something about Tusken unrest or a break-in or something."

Holder, now sitting on one of the lower shelves, looked up as they entered, "Hey Deck, how'd the swoop do?"

I crossed the floor, stepping down the one step into the slightly recessed area in the center of the room, "It worked well . . . smooth and pretty strong -"

He interrupted me, "You were gone a long time." Blade took note of the comment, his eyes darted over to me.

"Yeah, well I had to stop out in the dunes and make a few adjustments. It took a little while to locate the problem."

"Think you got it all worked out now?" asked Holder.

"I think so." I replied.

Etz shot a glance to Holder, "You feeling any better now?"

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, looking back over to the Commando.

"Nothing a twenty year sentence inside a metal slab didn't give him." said Danz.

"Yeah, it's a little easier to breathe now." Holder replied.

Topolev pulled out a handful of items from the plastoid container he was leaning on and began sifting through them. Something on one of the items in his hands caught Holder's eye, and he stood abruptly, grabbing one of the holo cards from Topolev's hand.

"Hey!" said Topolev as the other items fell away to the metal, grid of the floor below.

Everyone turned toward the two, watching.

The small black and white logo on the upper right-hand corner was exactly what he thought he had seen; the dark circular center, the ring of outward facing rays. Small flashing images and sporadic bursts of rapidly streaming and disjointed incomplete memories flooded in from the still-murky recesses of his mind as creases of concern furrowed his brow, perspiration forming.

His mouth moved slowly, as if speaking to himself only, carefully forming whispered words that gave substance to the revelation he was having.

"Black Sun."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29 – Echoes From the Past**

With her face pressed against it, she could see, if not believe, that on the opposite side of the transparisteel of her third story window, life went on. Her breath fogged a small portion of it as she took notice of the sun losing its firm hold on the afternoon and lazily slipping into early evening. Across the courtyard, a stand of trees swayed gently in the wind. Straight down on the walkway below, several pieces of trash caught up in small whirlwind spun in tight circles, dancing on the vortex of air. She watched it spin uncontrollably, like her life, until the wind calmed and the trash settled once again to the ground.

Staring blankly out what remained of the day, Toryn Farr drew in a deep breath, followed by a labored exhale, as if it hurt to do so. There was no emotion, no expression and no reserves within to draw from. What day it was she didn't know, and didn't really care. She had stopped caring and lost track of what, where and when today and now was.

Tears gathered, welling along the lower lid as her green eyes stared blankly at the outside world. Nothing held meaning. The wrenching heartache in her chest felt as if it would drain the very life from her, emptying through the gaping hollow in her heart. So many people had been lost. In her mind, she pictured her family and friends, going about their business, as the entire planet was suddenly ripped apart in a blinding flash. Everyone and every place she had ever known . . .all vaporized in an instant.

Tears finally fell, trailing down her cheeks. The only thing surpassing the bottomless ache and despair was the very primal, burning human need to find a way of striking back at the Empire. Through the pain and depression, a vision was coming into focus. She now knew what her direction was, what path had been laid out before her. She would heal herself here and now, and seek out the growing rebel alliance. In the wake of this very public, horrific display, she would not be the only one looking for a way to serve against the Empire.

It was sheer chance that she had been en route to nearby Talasea when Alderaan was destroyed. She wondered why that was. Why had she been spared? Her mind raced with too many thoughts; more than she could listen to all at once. Of them, none had been of suicide, but the attendants monitored her every move and came by to check her regularly. No, she would not take her own life. If her life was to be lost, it would be lost taking as many Imperials as possible with her. She pulled off the wrap that had been draped around her shoulders and stepped over to the intercom beside the door; she pressed the CALL button. A moment passed and a voice came on the line, "Yes Miss Farr?"

She composed herself and lied into the screened area. "I'm feeling quite a bit better now. I've been here long enough, and am ready to be released."

Unable to sleep, Carlist Rieekan quietly walked the darkened ice halls of the steadily enlarging Rebel Base under his command. He mentally took stock of cargo crates and equipment as he passed by in the dim corridors. Even in the still, quiet of the early morning hour, the energy in the air was as palpable as the chill. All who had come together here to fight for freedom now had a common, more imminent direction. Survival.

It was his responsibility for their survival that kept sleep elusive. Much of the equipment from Yavin IV had been salvaged and would be put to use here. He nodded silently to the armed guard he passed as he turned and stepped through sliding blast doors into the main ground-level hangar. The pain in his knee was worse here, in all this cold and he stopped to rub the stiffening joint a bit before continuing on.

The battle-worn X-wing fighters of Rogue Squadron lined the left wall; each of them individual, distinctive and unique, like the pilots who flew them. Far too many of both had been lost in the Battle of Yavin. Those ships and pilots that had returned to base safely, or limping and shattered, now led the squadron. The wall of the right side of the hangar sported only empty alcoves waiting to house each of the many Incom T-47 airspeeders on order.

Shaking his head in frustration, he crossed through the majestic silence of the cavernous room, heading for the other side, watching the icy ground below through his fogging breath. Even the simplest of purchases seemed to take forever to complete. Many layers of people had to be in place to buffer the manufacturers from their true customer. At this stage of the game they couldn't be too careful.

He noted the jaggedly cut openings for the turbo lift cluster, and walked over to inspect them. There were two small lifts for personnel, and a much larger one for moving small ships and supplies to what would become the lower levels of the base. Placing a gloved hand on the ice of the rough door frame, he leaned out, taking a look down. Twenty meters below, an ice cutter sat motionless at what was currently the bottom of the shaft. It silently waited for its operator and the task of burrowing ever deeper into the solid ice.

As he pulled his head back out of the shaft and walked out into one of the many hallways snaking through the ice, he thought of the reactor that would soon reside far below. The base itself would require a huge power generator to be located somewhere jut outside the ice fortress. The reactor that would go below was needed to power the two V-150 Anti-Orbital Ion Cannons they had "liberated" from the Empire. The Intelligence had been absolutely accurate, and they had been very, very lucky. A smile crossed his face as he thought of the strike team that hijacked the Imperial transport ship just outside the Kuat Drive Yards.

A second team had been working on the reactor issue. Scoring free Ion Cannons was great, but if you didn't have a power source, they were all so much durasteel and permacite.

In the wake of Alderaan's destruction, many ships were destroyed or damaged as a result of the new, uncharted debris field. Shortly after securing the cannons, the intelligence sources located a damaged and abandoned Praetor-class battle cruiser adrift amidst the asteroid field which was slated for salvage. With the help of multiple technical teams, the ships' reactors had been removed for the sole purpose of powering the new Cannons.

He would feel much better once their defenses were up and running. Having Mon Mothma present was a huge boost for the morale of the troops, but a huge security risk at the same time. Keeping the majority of Alliance command constantly moving on the ships of the fleet was the best idea for now. Her being in one place was risky.

The dark corridor he was in finally emptied into a huge natural cave in which several transport ships floated on their repulsors. He made his way to the command ship and entered through a port in its belly. As he did, he saw his aide rushing toward him.

"General, I've been looking for you."

"What's wrong?" asked Rieekan.

"Nothing immediate, sir, but we received a piece of intelligence from one of our Bothan spies that you need to see."

The aide produced a datapad. He entered a security code, opened the image and handed the pad over. "Apparently we didn't get everyone we had hoped at the Battle of Yavin."

Rieekan looked down at the image of Vader's damaged ship being guarded and undergoing repairs.

"Damn."

_Through thick fog that saturated the jungle-like vegetation around them as well as any exposed skin, Luke and Leia pushed onward through the darkness. As they passed through a dense twenty foot tall barrier of thick grasses, they found themselves stepping out onto gridded durasteel plates lining the main street of a small collection of buildings._

_Luke grabbed Leia around the waist, covered her mouth and shoved her back into the thick grass, a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. A second later, the dark form of a man wandered past them, staggering a bit. His boot landed unevenly on the edge of the durasteel plate, half on and half off, and he stumbled and fell into the thick mud of the street. _

_The man, now laughing at himself for falling, wore a heavy jumpsuit. He picked himself up, wiping at the mud a bit before giving up and wandering off into the night._

_When he had been gone some time, Luke loosened his grip on the Princess and uncovered her mouth. "That was close."_

_She rubbed her mouth and adjusted her clothing. "That guy's a miner of some sort. Did you see his suit? Standard issue mining gear."_

_Luke glanced over to her. "Spending a lot of time in the mines, Princess?"_

_She threw a handful of the mud at him, which he managed to duck away from. "My father took me on trips when I was a little girl. He had business dealings with many mining colonies across the galaxy, and those are standard mining pressure suits."_

_Luke looked down the deserted street as he rolled her comment over in his head. "I wonder what they're mining here, on Mimban?" _

With a start, Luke awoke in the cockpit of his fighter. Through the canopy, he saw the swirling multi-colored vortex of hyperspace streak by. With R2 in control of the hyperspace jump, and the whistling whine of the engines he must have dropped off to sleep. His little astromech gave a whistle through the comm and sent a message to the screen on the panel before him. Luke rubbed his eyes and looked at the small display.

**On Course - Approaching the Hoth System**

The details of his dream were already slipping away, and he had to fight to recall even the smallest of things about it. "Mimban? Why would I dream about Mimban?"

As he pondered the bizarre dream, R2 reverted to sub-light speed. As the ship slowed to normal space, Luke saw a band of asteroids orbiting ahead, with several planets beyond.

R2 dispatched another message:

**Asteroid field course plotted. **

**Scanning assigned frequencies for Echo Base signal**

A tone sounded in the cockpit and another panel winked on showing a course leading to the sixth planet in the system as well as a scrolling loop of the ground coordinates.

Luke yawned. "R2, get us through the asteroids, and then I'll take it back on manual for the approach."

The little 'droid bleeped several times as the snub fighter raced into the asteroids.

Buried deeply in the bowels of Imperial Center, Emperor Palpatine, his ravaged face obscured by the deep hood of his deathly black robes, slowly moved along a lengthy, secured corridor flanked by his two most trusted Imperial Guards.

As he neared the end, both crimson-armored guards stepped to the side, shouldering their Force pikes, and assumed flanking sentry positions at either side of the locked blast door as they had done many times before.

The warped and bent figure of the Emperor entered a private code and straightened up a bit as the heavy doors slid open. He stepped through into the musty air of the darkness beyond, leaving his guards behind as the doors slipped shut. Lights flickered on as he entered the large room; the air here was still, unmoving as the air of a tomb. There was absolute silence.

He slowly made his way across the illuminated frosted-white floor, moving this way and that between numerous suspended carbonite slabs that made up his garden. Silently he moved past the many grotesque metallic faces, frozen in silent screams of anguish, pain, surprise and disbelief and made his way to the throne situated in the center of the room. It was here that he came to meditate, ruminate and peer into the murkiness of the future. He sat slowly into the low, swiveling chair and took in a breath, closing his eyes. Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.

Lord Vader had once been one of the most powerful Jedi that ever lived, but with his defeat on Mustafar, and subsequent surgeries to replace human limbs with cybernetic appendages, his grasp on the Force had been diminished. The short-lived time he spent in those first few hours as Lord Vader were the heady, power-filled moments that Palpatine had envisioned for him.

He knew now that while Lord Vader was indeed still powerful, there was another that would eventually take his place. One whose existence he had already sensed buried deep within in his Sith apprentice.

This would take careful manipulation, but if played properly, Lord Vader would believe he had concealed his feelings for his son, and eventually, young Luke would be the powerful apprentice Palpatine had hoped for in Vader. The Dark Lord must not yet be allowed to know that he was aware of Skywalker's existence. That would come soon enough. For now, Vader must be the one to relentlessly dispatch probes and tear the galaxy apart, tirelessly searching for his son, all the while believing that one day they might destroy his master and rule the galaxy together.

As the hideously disfigured Emperor opened his eyes, he pressed a small switch in the armrest of the throne. The electric charge in the frost-white electrostatic floor suddenly fell away, and the thick transparisteel panels became clear. Palpatine stood, taking a few steps forward, peering down through to the uneven, rocky floor beneath. It was littered with Jedi corpses as far as the eye could see. Every Jedi that had been rounded up and executed by his men and bounty hunters through the years had been brought here. It was an amazing rush for him to peer down at them, literally lying vanquished beneath him.

An evil smile crept into the corners of his mouth, exposing his rotting teeth, as he wandered this way and that, surveying the price they had paid for their lack of vision

Both Yané and his first mate slept in the two crew bunks as Solo monitored their flight path from the relative comfort of the pilot's seat. He adjusted the course heading slightly to avoid the wide band of dense asteroids ahead. The muffled roar of the 'Falcon's engines was usually a comforting sound for him, but did little to reassure him as they entered the Hoth system. He glanced to the side, out the cockpit window.

There was now enough money now to pay off the Hutt, and he was anxious to do so. He knew Jabba. He wasn't patient. There would be bounty hunters and lots of them, along with all manner of unpleasant things awaiting him if he didn't make the payoff soon. His words to Luke echoed in his ears. "What good's a reward if you ain't around to use it?"

The one thing that calmed him at all was the fact that he was headed for a rendezvous on a planet that was about as far away from hospitable as he could imagine. Bounty hunters would be looking for him in his familiar haunts along the established trade routes that stretched from one side of the galaxy to the other. Never in a million years would they even think to look on Hoth.

After his involvement at Yavin, and whether or not he believed in their cause or was just intrigued by a beautiful Princess, he was now definitely on the Imperial radar, most likely with a death mark on both his and Chewbacca's heads. For the moment, it seemed, Jabba was the least of his immediate worries.

They would have to lay low for a while, help out if they could, and stay hidden among the rebels until he could figure out a way to get the money to Jabba without getting himself killed along the way. Maybe he'd be able to get some time with her worshipfulness. He wasn't positive, but he felt deep down that although she wouldn't admit it, she liked him, in a perverse, cat and mouse, moth to the flame kind of way.

There was always something.

An amber indicator on the panel winked intermittently, showing that they were in the upper fringes of the atmosphere on Hoth 6. He reached up to the overhead control panels and switched on the beacon responder, the repulsors and hull de-ionization as he took the forward and lateral controls in his hands, flying his custom ship down toward the darkened surface rendezvous coordinates. The Hoth star was on the far side of the planet; it was early morning on the ground as they raced through the rocking winds. The metal skin of the ship groaned as the extremely cold air clashed with the heat of their re-entry.

Han leveled off just shy of the ground, skimming along the snowy, frozen landscape beneath. He flew by instruments now, as it was too hard, even with the forward floodlights on, to make out where the ground was. Just ahead on the port side, a small meteor with a crimson tail flashed by, slamming into the icy ground beneath.

Chewbacca wandered into the cockpit with a small growl, settling sleepily in the co-pilot's chair and pulling on his headset. He tried to raise the base communications officer as he stretched his arms out overhead. He grunted at Solo as the base acknowledged their approach. Yané walked in a moment later, quietly slipping into the seat behind Solo's and pulling a wrap around her shoulders as she peered out into the darkness and the ice-covered ground below.

From the ground, a rebel scout rider, out on his morning patrol, reined his Tauntaun mount to a stop as he monitored the base-to-ship communications and silently watched the warm glow of the Millennium Falcon's engines slip slowly by in the frigid darkness.

Everyone in the room was silent for a moment as Holder stared off blankly into space.

"Black Sun?" asked Topolev.

Holder nodded slowly, still staring at the logo. "Yeah."

Topolev took the datacard from Holder's hand, examining it as Etz and Danz moved closer to look also. "I've heard of them, but what's the big deal if your squad had dealings with them? They're into everything, legal and otherwise. Given the smugglers and spacers that hang around here, it's not all that surprising they would be on Tatooine."

Holder was in a bit of a daze. Memories were flashing by so quickly he couldn't seem to get them to gel into a cohesive thought. He closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know. But there's more to it than just a deal, I just can't put my finger on what it is yet. Were there any other cards in there marked Black Sun?"

Topolev looked back into the container, reaching a hand down inside, sifting through the few cards at the bottom of the bin. "No. That looks like the only one."

"Let me see it again?" Holder asked.

Topolev handed it over.

He took the small card between his thumb and index finger and walked over to the holo card viewer were Felth had been sitting. He inserted it in the reader slot and waited for the automatic index scan to finish. A moment passed and the Black Sun logo finally flashed up on the small screen. As it faded away, the first page of what looked like a business invoice began to appear on the screen, and then froze, pixelating into cubes; the image jumping and stuttering.

Topolev had dumped the last of the items in the container out on the shelf and picked through them, and was now glancing over to Holder. "Is there anything interesting on it? Anything that jogs your memory?"

Holder grabbed the protruding edge of the card and wiggled it a bit in the slot to make sure it was properly seated, "Looks like it's either corrupted or damaged. I can't see much." He stared at the flickering screen, trying to make out something, anything. He pulled the card out of the slot, rubbed the strip of metallic contacts, looked them over closely, and slid the card back into the reader.

Blade and I walked over to stand beside him, watching the screen. The others in the room followed, hoping to perhaps be able to make out anything intelligible.

The index scan ran a second time and the Black Sun logo appeared again. Once again, as the page appeared, it froze; pixelating into distorted cubes. Blade leaned forward, touching the lower portion of the screen with his gloved hand, "It looks like this part says something about a project bid of some kind."

The lift out in the hallway began its' descent down to where we were as Etz noted, "This area at the top shows the recipients." He leaned even closer. "That first name looks like Masall or Matall, but the rest of it is garbled."

"Matalla the Hutt." said Holder, calmly and quite matter-of-factly.

"Matalla the Hutt?" asked 1265.

Holder nodded slowly. "Yup. I have no recollection of who that is yet, or why I remember it, but it's significant. I can feel it." The rest of us exchanged silent glances as Holder continued staring at the flickering name on the screen.

Just then, Felth stepped through the door, "Hey. We've got to get moving. Rogue's message said he needs us all out at Darklighter Water. There's been an incident. A body was found near one of their perimeter condensers with multiple stab wounds to the abdomen."

Etz rolled his eyes, "Why does he need all of us?"

Ddraig appeared in the doorway and stepped up beside Felth, "There's a murdered body, but there' no blood. It was deliberately moved and placed there."

I shot a glance to Topolev, who was already climbing down off the racks, "Can you get the transport fired up?"

He nodded, "Already on my way."

Blade pushed past me heading for the lift, "OK, let's get our gear. Topolev, we'll meet you out back. Etz, comm over to 4120 and Falker at the Dowager Queen working that domestic call. Let them know where we're going"

"I'm on it" replied Etz. "4120, do you copy . . ."

Danz slapped a hand on Holder's shoulder as the others filed out to the lift, "You coming?"

Holder looked up at him, then away at the dingy stone wall. "Yeah. It's been a while, but it'll just take a second to gear up."

Just outside the entrance to the ice hangar, in the darkest, still hour of the pre-dawn, Luke Skywalker sat cross-legged on the deck of one of the snow-covered ice diggers. He was one of only a handful awake at this hour. Security guards monitored every entrance to the base and several mounted riders patrolled the perimeter.

Despite the bite of the cold, beads of perspiration formed across his brow as he concentrated intensely with eyes closed, listening to the calm voice emanating from the small holocron in his lap, "Feel the shape, texture and energy of each object. Now feel the energy in every particle of the air and the ground, as well as that of your own body. Remember to breathe, young one." The image of a young Obi-Wan flickered above the small cube.

The boy took in a small breath, eyes clenched shut.

The crisp morning air became unnaturally still as the flurry of falling and blowing snowflakes swirling around him halted suddenly in midair, hanging on all sides. They sparkled and glistened in the brilliant moonlight of the morning, hanging in the clear air as Luke opened his eyes slightly. He closed them again as he reached out with the Force, feeling each flake with his mind.

A solid roof of snow was now collecting above him, as the still-falling snow began piling up on top of the small space he had rendered stationary. The weight of the collecting flakes began to increase. It pressed against his fledgling Force energy, increasing with intensity, like additional weight testing the strength of a tiring muscle. He took another breath as the hovering flakes began to tremble in the air. Clenching his teeth, he pressed outward and upward with all of his Force energy. The Midichlorians in his veins burned as he reached out through them to feel and manipulate this tiny portion of the Force.

It was at that moment that the Corellian stock light freighter appeared out of the snowy darkness, passing by on its way to rendezvous with the other ships of the fleet.

The suspended snowflakes and the collected layer of snow above suddenly came falling down over him as Luke lost concentration. He brushed the loose snow off his head and out from around his collar as his eyes followed the bluish white light of the engines on Han Solo's _**Millennium Falcon.**_

"That's another one I owe you" he muttered.

There was a crowd of shabbily dressed, weather-worn men and women pushing and shoving around the base of a lone 'vaporator out by the garage as we drew closer to the main building at Darklighter Water.

Topolev slowed the transport to a smooth stop, and we all jumped down from the open tailboard. Holder stood behind me, looking over at the small assembled group as he adjusted his very dated and ill-fitting commando armor on his now-smaller frame. I stopped a condenser mechanic walking b

y to ask about the crowd. "What's their story?"

He looked over to them, then back to me. "Them? They're outcasts, vagrants. They live in the caves over there beyond the ridge" he said, squinting and pointing "in _Beggar's Canyon_. They have no money and need water, so old man Darklighter lets them work small day jobs in exchange for it."

Some movement behind me caught his eye, and he looked away for just a moment, then back to me again. "Sorry, I have to get to work." And he walked away, throwing a heavy tool belt over his shoulder.

As he did, Holder and I turned to see what his distraction had been. Darklighter and a small entourage were descending a steep set of stairs from the main house. It was a sprawling, bleached-white complex of buildings in sharp contrast against the dark blue sky.

Rogue stepped out in front of us as Huff Darklighter waved off his followers and closed the distance between the bottom step and us. "Thank you for coming so quickly. One of my workers discovered the body when he went out to reset an alarm on the condenser."

"You said it's not one of your men?" He nodded his helmet slightly as the tiny speakers issued a slight burst of static.

Now it was Huff's turn to nod, "That's right."

"One of them?" asked Rogue, turning and dipping his head in the direction of the crowd collecting water.

Huff shook his head, and turned to move away from the main building with Rogue following. "No, it's not one of them. Not one I've ever seen anyway."

The rest of us followed a few steps behind, keeping an eye on the vagrants and Darklighter's men.

"We'll need to see the body."

Huff nodded. "Of course. It's been undisturbed, and is being watched where it was found at the condenser out near the perimeter of our collection fields."

"We have plenty of room in our transport, if you'll just have one of your men help with the navigation."

Topolev turned and double-timed it back to the transport. The rest of us followed, with two of Darklighter's men joining us.

The main buildings of Darklighter water had long since disappeared beyond the rippling waves of heat along the horizon as Topolev finally let up on the thrust and steered us toward the next condenser.

With the afternoon now rapidly fading, we all jumped from the tailboard of the slowing transport.

Huff Darklighter and his men stepped down once it had come to a full stop. As he approached Rogue he turned and spoke to them. "Vehuji, Hessio. Show them."

A slight wind blew a light haze of sand across the ground as the two men walked ahead toward the 'vaporator. Both wore coverall jumpsuits bearing the Darklighter Water company logo. One had black hair, the other brown. Rogue, 0600 and 4120 followed as Topolev stepped down to the sand, joining the rest of us.

Vehuji and Hessio, now a good ten meters ahead of the group, reached the draped body first. The man standing guard stepped back a few paces as Darklighter, Rogue and 4120 approached. Vehuji and Hessio were both now kneeling in the sand in the long shadow of the condenser. They gently pulled back the covering, exposing the victim.

The sprawled body was face down, and that of a simple man wearing loose-fitting desert clothing common to the region. A bloody stain scarred the cloth wraps. He wore a hood and face drape in an attempt to block exposure to the damaging suns rays.

Darklighter nodded, "Vehuji?"

The black-haired man beside the body reached down under and rolled the corpse over onto its back, then pulled aside the face drape. Although closed, the victim's eyes were noticeably deep-set and recessed. He had a leathery, weather-worn face full of pronounced creases, and a full, snow-white beard. His wrists had each been tied with leather straps and his arms crisscrossed over his impaled belly. The straps continued from each wrist around behind him and were tied tightly in back to the strap from the other wrist.

4120 dropped to one knee in the sand to get a closer look. He pulled back the face wraps a bit more, revealing an old, healed scar that ran from the man's ear down across his neck to the collarbone on the opposite side. It was a horrible looking thing, from what must have been an equally horrible injury.

He inspected the stains on the loose clothing just below the old man's rib cage. They indicated the location where the stabbing thrusts had been repeatedly plunged through the victim's abdomen.

Vehuji had been looking at the man's belt. "All of his belt pouches are open and empty. Whoever did this removed any identification. That doesn't sound like a Tusken Raider."

Rogue knelt down beside the body, noting the injuries. "These do look like they could be Gaffi stick thrust wounds . . . but Tuskens wouldn't bother to move bodies."

He reached out, gently rolling the head to one side as he examined the man's face, "Damn that's a mean scar. I'd love to know the story behind how he got that one!"

The rest of us were standing behind, gathered in a group looking down at the unfortunate victim. Holder was beside me still working on adjusting a stubborn strap when he glanced over and caught sight of the old man's face. "Let me see that scar?"

Rogue turned his head to Holder and stood, moving to one side.

Holder bent down, dropping to one knee, his eyes staring intently. He reached out with his finger and traced the path of the scar from the ear to the collarbone across the wrinkled old skin. "Can you untie him? I need to see his left hand."

Vehuji nodded as he went to work on the knot of leather.

Holder was perspiring a bit more than the rest of us as he leaned a little closer, and cut his eyes to 4120. "If I'm right about this, he's missing the index finger from his left hand."

The knot finally came loose, and Vehuji unwrapped the bindings from both hands. "There's a scar on his left hand across the base of the index finger, but it's still intact."

Holder reached out and touched the finger, then grabbed the skin of the digit tight and yanked hard away from the hand. In a flurry of movement, 4120 grabbed holder's wrist and Rogue grabbed his shoulder struggling with him. "What the hell are you doing?"

There was a horrible ripping sound as the skin tore at the scar line, and slipped off the finger. All three fell back into the sand, still gripping Holder. In the fiery glow of the late Tatooine afternoon, the detached skin revealed a gleaming mechanical prosthetic finger sticking out of the weathered hand.

Rogue and 4120 let go of the Commando and stared at the hand.

Holder's eyes grew wide.

"Watcher!"

Earlier in the day, Toryn Farr had wandered aimlessly through the city on Talasea for some time trying to locate a likely rebel contact and had little luck. In a moment of doubt, just as she began to fear she would never make the contacts needed, a flyer for a protest had blown across her path on the street. COME PROTEST ALDERAAN! had been printed in bold across the top of the flimsy sheet.

In the dark evening air, she clutched the folded flier in her hand as she moved through the gathered masses. The huge crowd now moved as one undulating entity. It flowed like running water as they tried to avoid the sudden flurry of uncoiling blue-ringed stun rays and tear gas fired by several squads of Stormtroopers that poured out of an adjacent alley in full riot gear. Toryn, in the middle of everything, turned and ran with the crowd.

Coming tonight had been a long shot, but she hoped to find someone to connect her with the Rebellion; a contact, a beginning, a stepping off point to begin her journey. She vehemently protested Alderaan's destruction and figured kindred spirits, if not rebels, would be present tonight.

Crimson blaster fire exploded out of the crowd now, firing back at the troopers, dropping several of them to the ground. The crowd in the darkened square erupted in a frenzy of screaming people scattering in all directions, dropping their lanterns and signs. The stakes had just been raised. One of the Stormtroopers fired up his backpack in the middle of the crowd, lifted several meters into the night air and began firing indiscriminately into the crowd with a repeating rifle. Those who were hit fell and were trampled by the stampeding crowd.

In the violent pushing and shoving of the bodies, Toryn felt someone grab her wrist, pulling her out of the way just as a volley of blaster fire took out several people where she had been standing. She pushed a woman out of her way as she fought to see who had grabbed her only to see . . . no one. Looking quickly down to her hand and saw a young boy pleading with his frightened face and eyes for her to continue following him out of the square.

A blaster bolt sizzled past, and the man running behind her was hit in the shoulder, falling with all his weight into her. He grabbed at her shoulders and clothing, trying to keep himself on his feet. She was terrified as she looked back at him and the smoking blaster in his hand. Her terror quickly shifted to resolve as several more blasts burned by. Toryn reached down, grabbed the wounded man's good arm, threw it around her neck and lifted him up, grabbed his blaster and ran with her added burden as best she could, following the boy.

Suddenly, from out of the sky, a trooper with a backpack landed in front of the running child, his weapon drawn. The running boy skidded to a stop, falling down and backpedaling on the ground, looking up in terror at the stormtrooper. Without thinking, Toryn raised the blaster in her free hand and squeezed the trigger several times, blasting the trooper dead center in the chest, throwing him off his feet to the ground. Smoke curled from his chest as she moved forward to help the boy up.

They quickly made a sharp turn into a darkened side street just as a blaster bolt crashed into the corner of the building, shattering it and spewing dust and debris across their backs. They ran, making their way down the winding street, until the boy beckoned for them to follow him into a tavern. He pushed open the heavy door and disappeared inside as the injured man finally lost consciousness, his weight now pulling harder on Toryn, threatening to pull them both down to the street.

She fought to drag him closer to the door as two men appeared in the opening and hurried over to help. They lifted his weight from her, and rushed Toryn inside, quickly closing the door behind. It was a small place, with only one patron quietly sitting at a table with his drink. As he saw them burst through the door, he jumped to his feet and hurried ahead of them, opening the door to the back room.

The boy raced back to the front door, locking it as the bartender shut off the lights and hushed the group, "SHHHH! Don't make a sound."

Toryn, the wounded man and the others slipped into the back room followed by the boy. The bartender now stood at the front door, his ear pressed to it listening. He heard the clambering footsteps of others fleeing the square as they raced down the street and the ZING of several blaster bolts sizzling past. Then, there were a few moments of silence followed by the clattering of the trooper boots, running after them.

"They went that way. Move it!"

A short burst of blaster fire cut the silence of the street outside.

"They're getting away. Squad two, move in. We're going to corner them two blocks over, in the alley. Roger that. Coordinate efforts to . . . . "

The sounds began to fade, and finally silence returned on the dark street outside.

The bartender stepped cautiously away from the door and walked behind the bar into the back room. The boy sat watching the three men as they worked in flickering candlelight on the injury. Toryn sat in the corner, shaking and looking down at the blaster now cradled in her lap. "When will this kind of thing stop?"

The boy looked to the bartender, who moved next to her, sat down and put an arm around her. "Not soon enough for any of us, that's for sure. Are you fed up too?"

Toryn looked over at him, nodding shakily. "I lost my entire family on Alderaan."

He thought for a moment, watching his friend being worked on. "Are you prepared to sacrifice and do your part to make a change?"

Again she nodded, still catching her breath. "That's why I was there tonight." Still trying to be vague about her intentions.

He nodded, watching her. "You saved my friend. For that I'm grateful, and it's clear you have no love for the Empire." He dipped his head, indicating the blaster.

He looked in her eyes, sizing her up as he stroked his beard. "I have a friend that might be able to help you. He'll need to talk with you more to make the final decision, but if you're looking for a way to make a difference with the resistance, tonight missy, is your lucky night."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 – Crossing Paths**

Holder rocked back off his knee and sat in the sand. He lowered the commando helmet in his left hand to the ground beside him as he stared into Watcher's face, flashes and bits of memories racing before his eyes. He blinked twice and shook his head to clear them away.

"Who the hell is _Watcher_?" asked Rogue.

All eyes turned to Holder, whose eyes had now rolled back in his shaking head with a frothy foam forming on his lips.

"DAMN" yelled 4120. "He's convulsing!"

Hessio tore off his leather belt and quickly forced a section of it between Holder's clenching teeth as Rogue and 4120 fought to hold his arms down.

"Grab his legs" said 0600. We each grabbed one, struggling against his flailing limbs, but holding them down firmly.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Huff.

Felth replied, turning to him, "Extended carbonite containment. Whoever Watcher is, seeing him must have triggered memories or something that was disconnected along the way."

Suddenly, the clenched jaws relaxed and Holder began babbling something. Hessio pulled the leather strap out of his mouth and we tried to listen.

His eyes were now looking up at the sky, glazed over as he spewed his nonsense.

"**08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. 08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. Into the belly of the beast we go, only to be revealed by the sands of time. Eroding sands of time. Belly of the beast. Belly of the Beast." **

Holder's eyes were wider now as he continued his incoherent rant. **"08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. No mistakes."**

Rogue turned to Etz, "Get the med kit from the transport and sedate him now that the seizure is over. We need to get him back to the doctor in Bestine."

Etz nodded, turning and racing toward the transport.

"I have a staff physician back at my home. I would be more than happy for him to see your man" offered Huff.

"Thanks, but the doc in Bestine is the one who treated him when he came out of carbon freeze. He knows the history and has the medical records. We need to get him back there for evaluation" said Falker.

As Etz returned and began preparing the sedative injection gun, Rogue turned to Topolev, "Bag that other guy. We'll need to look him over closer and see if the doc can use him to trigger more memories and try and make sense of these ramblings."

Topolev nodded, motioning to Danz and Ddraig for help. "Come on, let's get this guy loaded."

The man who had been standing guard over the body moved out of their way, as did Hessio and Vehuji. Hessio was busy staring at the bite marks that almost went completely through his thick belt.

Topolev went back to the transport and circled it around between our 'vaporator and the neighboring one, backing the tailboard in closer to where the body lay. He, Ddraig and Danz lifted the body and placed it gently on the floor in the speeder.

When they turned back to the group, Etz was re-capping the sedative injection gun, putting it back in the med kit. A moment later, holder's eyes slowly closed and his body went limp.

Rogue looked up to the rest of us. "OK, let's get him loaded. Easy!"

We all helped lift him into the back of the transport, lowering him to one of the bench seats.

Darklighter, Hessio, Vehuji and the guard all boarded as well. Once they were settled, Topolev throttled up and headed back to the Darklighter estate.

A wisping wind kicked up as our transport headed for the horizon. Sand was sprayed lightly in small gusts against the base of the 'vaporator where Watcher's body had been.

As our speeder disappeared from sight, a small mound of sand near the adjacent condenser shifted slightly, moving and draining away revealing something hidden beneath. It peered out through twin lenses, watching us go.

When it felt we were far enough away, it lowered the macrobinoculars. An old man rose up from his belly where he had been lying, appearing from beneath a sand-covered fabric wrap.

He eyed the ground near the 'vaporator where we had been, and then turned his head in our direction as he sipped a bit of water through a tube from a small, collapsible bladder. One ice blue eye squinted in the afternoon's last blinding rays of sunslight as he stared in the direction we had gone.

"Into the belly of the beast we go."

The last words of Leia's comment still hung in the frigid air of the hangar between them as Mon Mothma thought carefully, selecting the words for her response. "While that may be true, these two things must occur simultaneously. First, mock reconn flights over densely vegetative planets similar to Yavin must begin immediately to divert attention away from our true location. Second, in the mix of the mock flights, _real_ reconn flights must also be under way to locate the next rendezvous point and potential base locations."

"I'm sure you're right, but in the immediate future we have a number of trials to overcome before we can even finish this base. We don't have the resources", stressed the Alderaanean Princess.

"Leia, so often when we speak, I see your father in your actions, and hear him in your words. Believe me, I know and understand your concerns. They are the same concerns he would have raised with me. This course of action will absolutely take resources we do not have to spare, and yet it must be done."

The leader of the Alliance paced away a few steps, passing her quiet attendant, Alia before speaking again. "The bitter truth is that no matter how secretive or how careful we are, sooner or later the Empire will find us. When that happens is not the time to be scrambling looking for an escape route. It will be precisely at that moment that we need an emergency evacuation and rendezvous scenario in place that all personnel understand intimately and are ready to activate."

She stopped a moment, looking over the plans for the ice base, her fingertip scanning across the page, coming to stop at a remote cavern removed from the base. "How are the permanent power generators coming along?"

Alia stepped aside as Leia moved closer. "Commander Skywalker is overseeing their installation. All components have finally been purchased and all but the final pieces have been transported here. I'm told if all goes well, and the shipments are on time, they should be online and functional within several days."

Mon Mothma closed her eyes a moment, and smiled slightly, turning her head to Leia as she opened them. "Ahh yes, Commander Skywalker. We were certainly lucky to have him at Yavin; and a Force-sensitive as well."

A surprised Leia turned to look her in the eye. "You know? We made a point not to tell anyone. If he is to be the first of the new Order . . . . "

"Yes, I know, and no one told me anything. His secret is safe with me. Truthfully though, if what I've felt is accurate, he's far more than a sensitive. Trust me, Leia, I'm no Jedi and my interests and undeveloped dabblings are far from mastery, but Force sensitivity has run in my family for generations. I feel Commander Skywalker has a great potential to lead us out of the darkness shrouding the glory that was the Republic. I feel he can lead us back to what we once were."

Leia sighed. "I hope you're right."

As she spoke, the forward-mounted floodlights of the _**Millennium Falcon**_ appeared out of the darkness as the YT-1300 freighter slipped past under the curving, natural ice arch into the enormous cavern and set down on her landing gear alongside several transport ships.

Mon Mothma drew a shallow breath. "I have faith that he will."

But even as she had faith in his naïve purity, Mon Mothma was terribly troubled and concerned as well. If her memory of his family name, and her intuition regarding the worn lightsaber hanging on the young Commander's belt, and the dark history and lineage behind it was correct, Commander Skywalker was someone to watch closely.

"No."

The Wook growled a throaty response.

"Yeah, I know they need the work. Just not right now. She needs to be ready to get outta this place in a hurry if we have to. We'll do the work, but not now."

Chewbacca quietly grunted his disagreement from the co-pilot's chair as he watched his captain shut down the Falcon's various systems and leave the cockpit rubbing the bandage on his forehead.

The warm leather seat beneath the Wookiee's furry body squeaked a bit as he shifted his weight. The hydraulic lines to the landing gear needed work badly. Even if the others didn't need the repairs, the central landing claw was losing compression on a regular basis. He could get the work done quickly, and had made up his mind that he'd have to do the work when Solo was otherwise preoccupied.

He stood up as he saw Yané pass by. He fell in behind her and they silently followed Solo to the open main hatch. Han stepped out on to the boarding ramp as it lowered, holding on to the framing, riding it down to the icy ground outside with a bump.

His frosty exhale floated in the crisp air as he noticed the chill and how underdressed they all were for the cold.

Leia Organa walked over from across the hangar. She was dressed in white quilted thermal gear, her hair in braids and woven across the top of her head; her arms crossing as she stopped in front of him. "Security must be asleep. They're letting anybody in here."

A cocky, sarcastic Han locked eyes with her, wrinkling his brow up and faking pain from the impact of her comment. "Whoa, your worshipfulness! Nice to see you too, princess." He noticed the wisps of hair at each of her temples; her dark brown eyes.

Chewbacca howled a greeting and slipped past, grabbing the princess in a furry hug, lifting her off the ground slightly. Leia released the Wook as she noticed the woman stepping off the boarding ramp behind Han.

Yané stepped up beside the Corellian, dipping her head slightly. "I am Yané, retired royal handmaiden from Naboo."

Leia's eyes cut from Yané to Solo, then to Chewbacca and back to Yané as she dipped her head slightly in response. "Welcome."

Han rolled his eyes. "It's a long story."

"I bet. Why are you here? I thought you were off to take care of an old debt?" Her one raised eyebrow questioned his presence here as much as her voice did.

He grinned a moment, then it faded. "So did I."

As the tissue on the slide plate gradually came into focus, the frosty, rigid skin of the desert corpse finally began to give up its secrets. Doctor Shurte's strong, thick fingers gently adjusted the knobs on the ancient magnifier back and forth a bit as he peered in through the eyepiece, bushy eyebrows hanging wildly over the top. His nose whistled slightly as he breathed in and out.

To look at him out of this setting, one might have thought him to be a hermit or recluse. His nails were long, however well maintained; his beard was thick and bushy; his graying hair was long and pulled back in a braid which hung between his shoulder blades.

Absently, he looked up from the eyepiece, scribbling a brief note on the sheet of flimsy beside him before returning to his scrutiny of the flesh sample, half whispering to himself. "Mirroring of cell structure, intact genetic code sequence, but with extra components, additional markers . . . ." He looked up from the sample, staring off across the room at nothing in particular, his mind rolling thoughts over slowly, carefully. More notes were hastily scrawled out before he stood from his stool and walked into the next room where the patient was.

More than a week had passed since Holder's seizure at the condenser, and although he had briefly been lucid in the desert after spewing what seemed to be nonsense, he had unfortunately lost consciousness prior to his arrival here. He lay motionless on the bed, monitors silently supervising his vital signs.

Blade walked through the doorway from the front room, removing his helmet. "Doctor Shurte, how's he doing?"

There was no response as the doctor scraped a small tissue sample from Holder's arm.

"Doc?"

The physician looked up this time, glancing over to Blade as he emptied the collected tissue on a slide tray. "Hello."

He looked back to Holder as he spoke. "Oh, him? He's been through a lot, but I expected him to be awake by now."

He walked past Blade, returning again to the magnifier, exchanging the corpse' slide with that displaying tissue gathered from Holder. Once again, his thick fingers moved over the adjustment knobs as he peered through the eyepiece, bushy eyebrows pushed back by the eye cup.

Blade stepped closer. "So doc, got any idea why the corpse was so important to Holder, or what might have caused the convulsions?"

The physician stood up straight, looked him briefly in the eye and without a word, crossed to the far side of the room, to the morgue trays set into the wall. He passed four of the shiny metallic doors, opened the fifth and slid out a narrow metal tray with a draped body on top.

He pushed back the thin, metallic veil to reveal the body of the man Holder had identified only as _**Watcher**_. He looked down at the frozen body of the ragged, scarred old man as he spoke.

"I'm at a loss for the cause of the seizure. Given his history with the unusually long carbon freeze, it could be just about anything. There's just no research on carbonite restraint of that duration."

At that moment a group of young men and women entered the room through a back door carrying small bags of equipment and supplies. They shook sand from their feet, unwrapped drapes from their heads and removed goggles from their eyes. One of the women was arguing with one of the men.

"All the evidence in the artifacts we've found so far points to a civilization dating back several thousand years. If we have any hope of finding the graveyard, we need to move on it now. The Harvest is almost here, and then it'll be winter. If there was in fact a meteorite involved in The Great Death we should be able to determine . . ."

All conversation stopped as they suddenly realized they weren't alone. Doc Shurte excused himself and stepped away from Blade to speak with them.

"I know you've not been here for a while, but please use the front door from now on. I have a patient in here now."

They nodded apologetically, slipping hastily through the door to the front part of the building. The doctor then moved back to where Blade was.

"My apologies, they're part of an archeological expedition from Balmorra that I'm hosting. Now, where was I?"

Blade watched as the doors swung shut behind them. "You were talking about his containment duration."

Doc wagged his index finger in the air. "YES, of course, his containment! The seizure could truly have been from a number of things, but . . . what I do know is . . ."

He paused momentarily, making sure they were alone. He held a hand out, motioning at the corpse. "This man is a genetic duplicate of Holder. _**Watcher**_ was a cloned Commando just like Holder, and from what I can tell, was from the same generation and incubation vat."

Wedge Antilles briskly marched through the dimly-lit ice hallway toward the hangar bay. His pilot's helmet was tucked firmly under one arm. His left boot was tighter than his right; just tighter enough to be annoying, and he could feel the pulsing of his heartbeat in the leg where it cut into his skin. The day had just begun wrong, as it seemed to most every year on this date.

Distracted by his own thoughts, he quietly slipped through the crowd of technicians and pilots. The loud whirring and hum of ice cutters filled the massive room, mingling with the sound of voices and droids, all echoing off the frozen ice walls, but didn't seem to penetrate Wedge's ears. He was listening to the sounds of his memories.

His brow was furrowed in a thoughtful scowl as he walked across the grid plate pathway lying atop the ice floor, his mind racing with thoughts of the day he lost his parents. In his minds eye, he could vividly see the tanker pulling away from their starship depot with the fueling lines still attached. He felt the rocking blast concussion of the resulting explosion and saw the look of terror on their faces; their screams silenced by the blast door that separated them. He saw them burning . . .

He resurfaced from the memories as he reached his ship. He stopped momentarily beneath the wide wings of the X-wing fighter, steadying himself against the extended landing gear.

Turning his attention to the ship, he ran a gloved hand over the durasteel skin of the wing overhead. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, exhaling forcefully as they opened again, as if he were able to blow the memories and pain out with his expelled breath.

His peripheral vision caught sight of Luke and Captain Solo entering from a corridor on the far side of the hangar, walking his way. He couldn't make out who it was, but someone was walking with them, following close behind.

He watched them as they threaded their way through the crowd, crossing the wide hangar, busily discussing something as they walked. Luke was dressed out in his pilot's gear. Solo wore the familiar, relaxed look Wedge had come to expect from him with the addition of a long-tailed thermal coat. The man who walked behind them also wore a flight suit and followed several steps behind Luke, trying carefully to match the speed and gait of the other men.

As they drew closer, he caught the tail end of Luke's sentence.

" . . . online as of this morning. The power distribution grid two levels down should go live within several days."

"That's great, kid. So as soon as the grid is hot, we can power the shield doors and seal off this place, right?"

Luke nodded to Han, then looked over to Antilles. "Wedge, I've got a new recruit for the Reconn flights. He's been assigned to Rogue Squadron – he'll be filling Biggs' slot."

Wedge nodded, rolling this over in his mind as he twisted his left foot around, trying to loosen his boot some. Luke stepped out of the way, revealing Dack. "Here he is."

The young pilot behind him quickly stepped forward, putting his hand out to enthusiastically shake Wedge's. "Dack Ralter. I heard you're going to be running some Reconn missions and don't have enough pilots to cover the schedule. I just want a chance to prove myself to you."

Wedge quickly looked him over, then over to Luke, then back to Dack. "What kind of experience do you have, Ralter? You've got some big shoes to fill, taking Biggs' slot."

"I'm new to the Rogue Squad, but I trained with the pilot corps on Tierfon."

Wedge nodded. "OK. You and I will be flying together until I feel more comfortable with your abilities."

He looked back to Luke as a small cargo ship entered through the main hangar door, silently floating in on her repulsor field, settling to the ground behind Dack.

"Missions are set to begin tomorrow. Briefing is at daybreak, right here. Dack, your ship is that one there, next to mine. Make sure you're assigned an astromech from the labor pool."

"Thank you, sir" replied Dack.

Wedge turned to Luke, "I hear you two have been paired up for this one too, huh?"

Luke grinned and Han rolled his eyes as he replied. "Yeah. Somebody's gotta keep an eye on this kid."

Wedge, Luke and Solo walked off discussing the upcoming missions as Dack stepped away, walking over to his ship; HIS ship! He could hardly contain his excitement as he grabbed the rail of the ladder mounted on its side and climbed up to the cockpit.

He was getting the feel of the instruments when a soft voice called out from down below, a voice he hadn't heard before.

"Hello?"

He leaned over the rim of the cockpit, peering down. A beautiful young girl stood at the base of the ladder looking up at him.

"Hello. I'm really sorry to bother you, but I just arrived and have no idea where I'm supposed to be going or who to talk to. I'm Toryn Farr, a communications expert recruited on Talasea."

Dack suddenly realized he had been staring at her a few seconds too long. "I'm Dack Ralter. If you're in communications you'll probably be working in the Command Center."

He stood up, throwing a leg over the side of the ship and descended the ladder twice as fast as he had climbed it, jumping over the last few rungs to the ground.

"C'mon. I'll make sure you find it." He said, smiling at her.

She smiled back at him. "Thank you, Dack"

His smile widened as he walked with her across the busy hangar. His day was definitely looking up.

As Han and Wedge split away from Luke, Carlist Rieekan calmly approached the young rebel. "Commander Skywalker, may I have a moment?"

"Of course." Luke followed him into a dark, unfinished branch passageway off the main corridor.

As he activated the datapad in his hands, the glow from the small screen revealed the troubled mask Rieekan's face wore. He spoke to the young Commander, not taking his eyes off the device as he worked. "I want you to see something." He tapped a few commands into the screen, opening the sensitive information he wanted to share. "I want you to understand the importance of your upcoming missions. I think this may help."

Luke took the datapad, turning it around to see the screen. It displayed the transcript from what looked like a field intelligence report. His eyes scanned the screen, reading every aurabesh word as Rieekan watched for a reaction. He saw Luke's eyes widen a bit as he read.

The frigid temperature of the hallway suddenly felt absolutely balmy campared to the chills running up Luke's spine. He continued to scan the scrolling screen. "Vader is dispatching . . . thousands of probe droids to look for us?" He looked up.

Rieekan nodded gravely as Luke's eyes returned to the screen. "I received that information from an embedded source that had been feeding information to codename 'BASE ONE'.

Luke looked up again. "Dodonna?"

Rieekan nodded. "That's right. The informant goes on to say the scale of the probe 'droid deployment is unprecedented in the history of the Empire. Vader wants us found."

Rieekan stood up straight, stretching his back and staring down the hallway as Luke continued reading. "I'm betting the Emperor is leaning on him to deliver _something_ after the failure of the Death Star. Whoever is submitting these reports doesn't realize Dodonna is dead. I've now assumed the 'BASE ONE' codename so they will continue sending the intelligence, but I have no way of validating it. Whoever this person is, they're in a very sensitive spot. From what I can make out by reading some of the older reports, he's just a grunt, a Desert Stormtrooper in a small unit somewhere in the Outer Rim most likely."

Luke looked up and over to the General. "Just before the Empire invaded Yavin IV, Dodonna gave me a datacard filled with information from an embedded informant. It must be the same source, and if it is, I can vouch for the information, it's very real. I'm also pretty sure they're stationed on Tatooine."

"Tatooine?" asked Rieekan. "That's pretty far off the beaten path. I doubt the Empire would even bother having troops out there."

Luke looked back down to the datapad. "Well, sir, I grew up on Tatooine, and the information on the card Dodonna gave me spelled out very specific landmarks leading to a place that Ben . . . uhmm, General Kenobi, constructed while living in exile there. I spent a lot of time racing skyhoppers all around the wastes and canyons near most of the inhabited parts, and I recognize the areas mentioned, just from his words."

Rieekan nodded as Luke continued.

"I was recently able to return to General Kenobi's home, but time ran short and I was unable to visit the site mentioned. With your permission, General, I'd like to return there while conducting our first round of reconn flights."

Luke cleared his throat. "I also need to inform Biggs Darklighter's father of his death. He and I were best friends, and grew up together, sir. I owe him and his father that."

Rieekan exhaled and his forehead furrowed as he weighed the request. "How much time are we talking about, Commander?"

Luke thought about it for a moment. "I would need several days at the most on-planet, but the time spent there could be very beneficial. I might possibly be able to make contact with our source. Could you reply send a reply message to your contact; let him know I'm coming?"

Gentle creases deepened at the corners of his eyes as the General smiled slightly at the younger man's impulsive, naive nature. He looked at the datapad, thinking about the question. "I believe so. If you can meet him, you might be able to relay some of our specific informational needs, and see if he can help us. Just remember one thing Commander . . ."

He dropped his eyes and pursed his lips as the possible darkness beneath the surface was exposed.

"This could be a wonderful break for us. But it could also be an elaborate setup designed to lower our guard and draw us out."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31 – Divulgence**

"I'm telling you that's what he said, a genetic duplicate." Blade waited for a reaction.

Rogue sat down in one of the lobby chairs, thinking. He noticed the female Rodian seated behind the sign-in desk, busily noting patient charts as he began digesting the information. He looked up to Blade after the brief silence. "Have you mentioned this to anyone else yet?"

Blade shook his head. "No."

Rogue nodded slowly. "Good. Let's keep it that way until after I can speak with Holder about it."

There was another, shorter silence before Rogue spoke up again. "Did the doctor say how long we were going to have to wait out here before we can go back to see Holder?"

Blade shrugged. "Not really. He said he was awake, but that there was a brief examination to complete and a few more tests to be run before he would let us back, and even then only for a short time."

It was at that moment that I came through the front door, spilling into the lobby with Etz, Danz and Felth.

Pulling the hot helmet from my head, I wiped a hand across my sweaty face. "Any word yet?"

Blade shook his head. "We're still waiting to get in."

I nodded. "I want to get another look at Watcher's body. There's something really familiar about him."

Felth and the others collapsed into adjacent chairs, pulling off their helmets as I continued. "I remember seeing some tattoos on his arms. I want to get a better look at them and see if it'll jog my memory as to where I saw them."

"I didn't even realize he had tattoos" said Blade. He glanced over to Rogue, who shook his head indicating he didn't know it either.

I continued as I sat down across from Rogue. "Yeah, I saw them when Topolev, Danz and Ddraig loaded the body in the transport. One of his arms fell back when they lifted him up over the tailboard. I didn't see all of the tattoos, but what I could see of them, I recognized."

The door to the back room opened slightly and doc Shurte stuck his head through, twisting it our way. "You can come back now." He disappeared back through the swinging door.

We all filed through the door, walking past a table filled with various instruments and containers holding body parts adjacent to a medical 'droid that was performing an autopsy.

The doctor walked ahead, leading the way. "I'm the only doctor in these parts, so this is a clinic and a morgue when necessary. I'm sorry to have to bring you through when I've got a body opened up."

Rogue replied un der his breath, and more to himself than for anyone else's benefit. "We've seen . . . and inflicted, far worse."

We kept moving and circled around Holder's bed. Various monitoring tools mounted on stands flanked him on both sides.

His eyes opened as we drew near, and he tried to speak, though his voice was quite hoarse. "What the hell happened? How long have I been here?"

Before we could answer, doc Shurte moved in beside Holder, checking the monitors as he spoke. "You've been here a little over a week's time, my boy. As for what happened; well, carbon freezing, especially extended entombments such as yours, can do strange things to the neural paths of the mind. From time to time, synaptic routes used to recall certain memories get crossed or destroyed altogether. When the brain can't make sense of what is happening, confusion and frustration usually ensues, and on occasion can trigger an obstruction-based seizure. The brain basically gets stuck in a loop trying to find the right neural path, and accidentally heads down the wrong one."

Holder raised an eyebrow. "Seizure, huh?" He rubbed his head a bit and rolled it to the side, staring up at the doctor. "Well whatever happened out there in the sand, and in the time between, I remember a lot more now. It's like I opened a door to a room full of memories I didn't even know were missing. Some of the pieces are still falling into place, but I feel a lot more complete now."

Doc Shurte furrowed his brow as he thought. "It sounds as if somewhere along the line, an alternate path to your memories was discovered. Perhaps when it happened, out in the dunes, it was too much for your brain to manage all at once, and you fell into the seizure as a way of protecting yourself from the rush of memories. Very interesting."

The doctor opened a journal and began scratching a few notes. "Feel free to stay a few minutes more, but he'll need time to rest soon." He turned away and headed toward the table where the 'droid was finishing up on the corpse.

As the others moved in closer to talk with Holder, I stepped away, following Shurte. "Doc?"

He turned back to me momentarily, as he pulled on a pair of gloves. "Yes?"

"Doc, will you pull Watcher's body out for me? I need to check something."

He eyed me a second, sizing me up. "Of course."

He turned away, walking over to the wall-mounted drawers, pulling one open. He slid the durasteel lid back. "Nope. Wrong one."

He closed it up quickly and pulled the one next to it out. "Here he is!" He pulled the drawer all the way out and slid the thin durasteel cover back in, exposing the body.

I reached out, sliding the loose sleeves of the desert wraps up, exposing his forearms. Both were littered with intertwining images of starships, asteroids and a number of attractive females from multiple species in various poses. I slipped the field holonet pack off my belt and saved several high resolution photos of each arm.

The medical 'droid whirred away behind me, its arm gliding along, sealing the incised flesh back together with a low-grade, green energy beam.

"I know I've seen these tattoos before. Where was it?" I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating, trying to remember where it was.

I smelled the smoke rising up from the 'droids cauterizing tool as it worked behind me. As soon as I smelled it, a flash of memories gelled in my head. I saw smoking, skeletal remains lying in the sand. It was the morning we had questioned Owen and Beru Lars. The very same distinct smell of burnt flesh had lingered in my helmet all that morning and well into the next day. As we had walked from the spaceport back to our barracks, I remembered seeing a haggard old man with a white beard begging on the side of the road. He had tattoos of women and starships that disappeared up under his sleeves. He had these very tattoos.

"Remember anything?" asked the doctor.

I pulled the sleeves down again. "Yes, I think so. Thanks doc."

"What'd you remember, Deck?" asked Rogue, walking over.

I pulled the sleeves back up, revealing the markings. "I saw him on the roadside in Mos Eisley. I remembered seeing them, but can't make any other connection. Something just seems off that he would be begging in town one day, only to be found murdered and displayed all the way out there in the dunes so soon after. Why would someone go to all the trouble of moving the body that far when there are any number of places to leave it in the city?"

Rogue nodded. "It does seem a little strange that this guy would find his way out that far, alive or dead . . . unless maybe someone from Darklighter Water is involved."

He walked back over to Holder's bed as he pulled out a small data tablet, and lay a hand on the Commando's shoulder. "Holder, now that you remember a bit more, does this mean anything to you?" He looked at the display screen to make sure he had it right. "Out by the condenser, after you recognized Watcher and were seizing, you kept repeating '_08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. No mistakes_.' Do you have any idea what that means?"

Holder's face went white as bone as the memories associated with that phrase fell into place.

"Yeah. I know what that means." He said, swallowing as he looked around at each of us uneasily.

"It means we have to find something I was told to get rid of twenty years ago."

A tight formation of four fighters skimmed across the barren wastelands and violent, volcanic surface of Sullust. Thick geysers of magma, spat from deep planetary fissures, spewed skyward, glowing bright orange and yellow off to their port side. Han and Luke avoided the jet as they led the way, closely followed by Wedge and Dack.

As they raced past a huge SoroSuub mining compound, Solo keyed the secure comm, glancing through the canopy of his Y-wing, across to Luke. "I don't get it. We're not setting down anywhere or even really looking for anything. Why are we doing this?"

Luke turned to look back at him. "We're flying a mix of real and fake reconnaissance missions to throw off the Empire. If they think we're still looking for a base, they'll assume we haven't settled anywhere yet. SoroSuub Corporation had been in control of Sullust for a long time, and was loyal to the Empire until the Sullustans recently took it back."

Wedge chimed in as he pulled his ship in a bit closer. "There are bound to be some left here still loyal to the Empire. Don't worry, our flight through definitely won't go unnoticed or unreported."

Luke's voice crackled in their headsets as he looked around. "I think that's probably enough of a show, but you know as rough as this place is, it might actually have some future potential."

"You think?" laughed Solo.

"So we're done?" asked Dack.

"You heard the Commander" said Wedge. "Let's head out. All ships break right and climb, on my mark. And . . . Mark."

The formation broke right and streaked up through dense banks of toxic clouds and storms of intense electrical discharges. As they passed out of the atmosphere into the cold of space, a sensor on one of the nearby orbital platforms activated, its' guns swiveling to lock on to the passing ships.

From out of nowhere a hailstorm of blaster fire erupted from the platform guns, spitting through the black void. They sliced between the ships until they found a mark, piercing the fuselage of Wedge's X-wing in a flash of debris. Alarms rang out in his cockpit as another round of fire stabbed at them from the platform. The four ships rolled apart.

Wedge limped away in his damaged ship, flanked by Luke, as Han and Dack turned sharply toward the source. They locked on to the platform as yet more blasts streaked at them from out of the darkness. Solo rolled over sharply and fell away to avoid them. Dack rolled and climbed in the opposite direction to engage.

As they did, a second platform sensed their presence and activated its gun turrets swiveling to also lock on and join the fight.

Dack lined up his shot on the first platform, locked on and fired as Solo swung around to face the second. The coordinated blasts from Dack's four wing-mounted cannons tracked across the darkness, shredding the guns of the first platform. He released the trigger as his target erupted in a momentary fireball. "Wahoo!"

Sensing the destruction of the first platform, the second immediately deployed a shield, which encircled it completely. Han fired at the gun array as they spewed blaster fire in his direction, but his blasts glanced off and were redirected as he rolled away.

"That thing's got shields up, Han. Let's get out of here before any others lock on" yelled Luke. "Follow me."

With blaster fire burning past their ships, the others fell in behind him, heading away from the planet and its moon. As soon as the platform sensed their withdrawal it ceased firing.

"Damn." Wedge keyed his comm. "My sensors are fried, my targeting array is gone, and I'm venting cabin oxygen. I'm not going to be able to make it with you to Malastare."

Luke brought his X-wing in alongside Wedge, eyeing the damage. "Han, the venting is pretty steady. I'll take him back to base. You and Dack go on ahead to Malastare."

"You sure, kid?" asked Solo. "We could all turn back."

Luke shook his head. "No. You go on and complete the flight, just keep Dack close to you. We'll see you back at base."

The crippled fighter and its escort peeled off from the group as the astromechs in both plotted their hyperspace jump. With a flash they were gone.

Both X-wing fighters reverted from hyperspace in synch, reappearing in normal space just short of Hoth VI.

"Wedge, can you make it to base from here?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why? Do you have an appointment to keep?"

"Actually . . . I do". "Rieeken knows I'll be gone, but will you let Leia know I should only be a few days."

"Yes, sir Rogue Leader. Rogue Two out."

Luke watched Wedge enter the upper atmosphere and dive for the frozen surface below before rolling away.

"R2?"

The 'droid squawked back his brief reply.

"Set a course for Tatooine."

Calculations were run, and the little 'droid adjusted the course heading slightly as Luke settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. As he did, R2 engaged the hyperdrive engines, catapulting them on their way toward his master's home world.

Locked into the X-wing's 'droid socket, the little blue astromech was busy monitoring the snub ship's course and operation data. Engine performance was optimal and steady, cockpit pressure was stable, and the temperature inside was comfortable by human standards. He silently took note that his master was fast asleep as they raced through hyperspace en route from Hoth to Tatooine.

Inside the cockpit, the young rebel pilot had succumbed to a few moments reprieve into a deep slumber. More strange dreams of a somewhat familiar place were once again taking shape as he rested. Dreams that were just as disjointed and bizarre as his life had become . . .

_The fog-shrouded jungle was navigationally unforgiving by air, and nearly impassable on foot. Visibility was only about 5 meters, with nothing but dense jungle swamplands littered with massive trees to see anyway. Far overhead, beyond the shrouding fog and low clouds, the tree canopy teemed with all manner of life. Cries and shrieks filtered down through the heavy grey veil to the ground._

_Thick, decorated snakes slowly twisted themselves around branches, watching silently as lizards hissed, spitting forked tongues into the air, tasting the newcomers. All manner of wildlife slunk away into the tall grasses and mud as the small band worked their way through the difficult terrain. _

_He was trudging through the calf-deep mud and mists with Leia, the two 'droids and an old woman whose face he did not know. Slowly, out of the haze ahead, came the vague outline of an enormous, crumbling stone temple. _

_There was a flash as his dream skipped ahead suddenly. He and Leia were now alone inside the structure. Although he had not seen it happen, he somehow knew the old woman had gone off on her own leaving the 'droids outside. Ben Kenobi sat atop a large, displaced stone block to his left, silently watching, giving only a slight nod of acknowledgment to the pair as they entered the building. _

_He heard a grinding stone-on-stone sound from the ceiling above, and only barely managed to shove Leia out if the path of the falling rock. It crashed into the ground beside him as he fell to one side to avoid being crushed. Then it toppled back toward him, falling across his right thigh and calf, pinning him to the floor. Luke looked over to where Ben had been sitting to ask his master for help, only to find that what he thought was Obi-Wan was really a lichen-encrusted statue; toppled and broken. _

_A shower of other smaller stones fell from the curved dome ceiling overhead, cascading to the stone floor into a pile of broken shards and a fine stone dust cloud. Luke tried hard to focus. He didn't think the large rock pinning him had broken his leg bone, but there was too much weight behind it for him to move it even slightly. Leia tried in vain to help as the dust began to settle and thin in the air._

_As it cleared, a new outline emerged atop the pile of stones. It was clad completely in black armor, and suddenly the hiss of a mechanical respirator cycled on and off . . . on and off . . . on and off._

_Leia's eyes went wide and her mouth silently formed his name, remembering her Death Star interrogation session with him. The dark figure snapped his crimson lightsaber on and slowly climbed down the pile of stone toward them. He casually swung the energy blade back and forth in bright arcs, chopping almost playfully at several large stone pieces._

_Without looking up, Luke instinctively reached for the sword hilt hanging on his belt as he felt the cold presence in his veins. _

"_Vader."_

The jungles suddenly evaporated away as he was abruptly awakened by R2 in the cockpit of his fighter. The navigational indicator on the console showed a necessary course adjustment marker approaching near Bpfassh. He yawned and shook his head a bit as he pulled off his helmet, wiping a bit of perspiration from his forehead. It was then that he remembered the temple from the mists. "Pomojema."

R2 beeped and whistled an inquiry, curious about what his master had just whispered.

"No R2, we're not going to Pomojema, it's just a place from a dream."

He thought a moment about what he had blurted out and the astromech's response, then turned his head back toward the little 'droid. "R2, if I did want to go to Pomojema . . . where would we be going?"

The little droid gurgled a bit and the translated data stream appeared on the ship's monitor on the console in font of him: **Mimban**.

Mimban? He thought to himself. He had never even heard of Pomojema or Mimban, and wondered why he was dreaming of a swampy, rainy mud hole like that.

R2 generated the reversion checklist for him as Luke prepared to slip out of hyperspace. He would have to make the course change in normal space and then reset the 'nav computer for a second jump to Tatooine.

"Something you were told to get rid of?" asked Rogue. "What are we looking for?"

He stepped away from the bed, pacing a bit, then turned back to Holder. "You need to start from as far back as you can, and catch us up, brother."

The monitors bleeped away in the silence that had suddenly fallen over the room as Holder shifted slightly in the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to find a suitable place to begin.

He looked around the room at us as he began. "It's important that you understand I knew nothing of these events until after the fact. When we arrived on Tatooine, in place of the intended clone crew, with our altered orders to manage the closing of the dig site, we had a fair amount of clean-up to do. There were mountains of files to sift through. Some were sent with the original crew, some were destroyed. The shipping contract had to be terminated, and the water contract held with Darklighter water had to be revised as there was only a skeleton crew left on site." He scratched his arm where medical tape held an intravenous fluid line in place.

"It was during that push to finalize things that we discovered the importance of

**08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450**. Watcher had taken over security duties, as that was his specialty. I had just finished de-briefing the last of the site's personnel and sent their shuttle on its way when Watcher came to me with his discovery."

Blood visibly pulsed through Holder's carotid arteries as he continued. "He had been given a small, shielded durasteel case. Along with it, he was given very unusual instructions by one of the crew leaders I had just de-briefed. He was told to feed it to the oldest Bantha on site and then turn the entire herd loose into the wild. Get rid of it all. No mistakes."

Felth interrupted him. "Wait a tick. You were told to feed the case to a Bantha?"

We were all just as lost as Felth.

Holder nodded. "Yes, we were told to feed it to a Bantha. The only thing I can figure is that the case would be too large to pass completely through the Bantha and would remain in its bowels for the rest of its life. Once the beast died, it would be buried in the sands forever."

Felth leaned forward a bit, arms crossed. "OK, but what does that have to do with **08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450**?"

Holder nodded his head, understanding our confusion. "I was just coming to that. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense yet. Anyway, Watcher and I became suspicious of the possible contents of the case and decided to open it. After all, he had become head of security, and I was the Holder of mission secrets. When we finally did get it open, all we found was a security data card labeled with the range **08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450**. It wasn't until we plugged the card in to view its contents that the importance of it became clear."

He cleared his throat, and motioned for a cup of water. Etz poured a small cup and handed it to him. He drank it down and wiped his mouth, handing the cup back to Etz.

'The data card was from the dig site's security surveillance system. The numbers simply indicate the time range that appears on the card. The data stream we saw on that recording showed a conversation between three people, and . . . evidence of a murder."

We all shifted a bit as he continued.

"It happened deep within the dig site complex, in a dim, secluded corridor. Details were difficult to make out due to the poor lighting, but the victim was clearly identified by the conversation that lead up to the killing. Those responsible were, at that time, nothing more than two contacts from the shipping contractor, both vying for a higher position within their organization."

Holder paused and took a breath, looking around at us, then turned his head to lock eyes with Rogue.

"Matalla the Hutt was killed by two agents of Black Sun; Prince Xizor and the Nediji assassin, Kaird."

A blistering, early morning wind blew across the spacious stone terrace of the Darklighter estate, blasting a bit of fine dust in his eyes as Luke lowered his head, pausing momentarily before continuing. Absolute silence had engulfed Huff Darklighter, who had gone rigid . . . entranced. He saw Luke's mouth moving, but heard nothing more come out.

It was as if the mainspring that drives the mechanism at the very heart of the universe machine had suddenly snapped. The hands that normally would have been ticking off the seconds and hours of infinity now swung wildly out of control, in the chaos of the moment to eventually rock back and forth at the bottom of the celestial clock face; slowly diminishing into an absolutely still, motionless stop.

The blood drained from his head as muscles all over his body began to twitch involuntarily from the sudden surge of adrenaline in his veins. He felt as if every bit of the solid ground surrounding them, except the square foot or two beneath his feet, had crumbled and fallen away, leaving him perched high atop a spindly stone spire, completely alone, completely isolated in his misery.

Biggs was dead? Vaporized? His eager young son with the quick smile and his mother's easy manner had been vaporized? There wouldn't even be anything to bury. Tears fell uncontrollably down his face as the raw grief ravaged his insides. His heart collapsed inward on itself as the disbelief and absolute sadness he felt was quickly followed by complete and utter emotional depletion.

Luke reached out and put his arms around Huff, embracing the only father figure he'd ever really known the way only Biggs' best friend could in such a personal, awkward moment. Sound slowly emerged from the electric buzzing in Huff's ears as he began to hear the wind rustling past his clothing wraps, catching the coarse hair of his beard.

The older man struggled somewhat unsuccessfully to regain his composure. "Thank you, Luke, for coming." He looked at young man fondly, like he did his own children. "You two were more like brothers than any two I've ever seen. When he learned something new about the condensers, or flying his 'hopper, all he wanted to do was shoot over to your uncle's place and fill you in."

Suddenly the anguish was wiped away by a fresh, new concern. "Luke, you aren't safe here. There's a permanent detachment of Imperial troops here now. They were looking for you in Anchorhead, and out at your uncle's place. Son, they . . . they . . . "

Luke stopped him. "I know." He nodded his head. "I know what they did. I saw it."

A moment of silence passed between them before Luke continued. "Are Windy and Deak OK? What about Camie and Fixer?"

"They were questioned and shaken up a bit, but they're all fine. Well, Fixer had a bad accident out in the canyon on a speed run, but he's recovering. He was out for quite a while, but is back at the power station now. His 'hopper's gone, though; nothing left but scrap."

"That must have been some accident."

Huff nodded, "It was. He and Windy were racing and Fixer got caught in a downdraft that pushed him right into Windy's 'hopper. They both went down out near the Stone Needle."

Luke was visibly shaken and filled with concern, mixed with envy and the desire to be back racing the canyons again. Huff put a hand on Luke's shoulder, smiling kindly. "You know you aren't safe here, and yet still you come see me. You're a fine son, Luke." He paused a moment. "What was it those troops were looking for, anyway?"

Luke looked up to the sky. "It's a long, complicated story, but basically they were looking for a 'droid my uncle bought, and since I was the one out with it, they were looking for me too."

A cool gust of wind blew around them. Luke looked off to the horizon in the direction of his uncle's farm. "Is the harvest under way yet?"

Huff nodded, looking up into the blue sky. "Starts tomorrow. Winter's coming whether we want it or not."

Luke nodded knowingly. "I should go. I know you're busy getting ready for it."

Huff turned to look at Luke. "That's tomorrow's business. Come inside and have something to eat with us before you leave."

I noticed the thick smell of medications and disinfectants hanging in the still air as we all weighed what Holder had just said.

It was Felth that spoke up first. "People get themselves killed every hour of every day in the Outer Rim worlds. What makes this murder so special?"

A small pump beside the bed switched on for a few seconds, then off as Rogue shook his head in amazement. "Killing a Hutt is no small thing, no pun intended. Jabba and the rest of the clan would never let that go quietly. If they even suspected Black Sun was behind it . . ."

"There'd have been a small war fought between them" I said, finishing Rogue's sentence. He nodded in agreement.

Blade was scanning the screen of his field holonet pack, his thumb scrolling through screen after screen. "I don't see any record of a _Matalla the Hutt_ anywhere."

Holder turned his head toward Blade, then cut his eyes to Rogue, "You won't. From what I learned, Jabba kept his '_brother_' hidden, as he was a bit of an embarrassment both personally and to the whole of the Hutt clan."

"Embarrassment or not, there would have been immediate and bloody retaliation against Xizor, Kaird and all of Black Sun if they had known what we know" countered Rogue.

Felth impatiently blurted out, "You know, this information is twenty years old. Why do we care about it? There was no war between the Hutts and Black Sun and the clan doesn't seem overly concerned over Matalla's disappearance."

Holder became visibly concerned and agitated now. "We should care about it because I picked up a tracking signature two days ago on my armor's signal receiver. Everyone that was on base at the dig site had an embedded tracking unit implanted in their head, but they must be an old, outdated technology by your new standards. I doubt anyone uses them anymore. I also doubt Kaird even remembers it's in that skull of his. I've been watching for changes in his signal, but there hasn't been one. Just before we headed out to where Watcher's body was dumped, the Port Authority contacted me about someone taking an interest in Kaird's ship. They confirmed that Xizor's personal 'droid assistant, Guri had arrived and had made an inquiry about it. Both of them knew what Watcher knew, and one of them killed the old guy looking for it."

He looked across at Rogue, handing him the small signal tracker. "I know they're both here searching for the recording; it's the only thing common to them both. For some reason it must have become important again, and make no mistake about it; either will kill to find it and keep it secure once they do."

Etz leaned closer to Holder, "When you were talking about the Hutt, why did you say '_brother_' that way?"

I was turning away from the bedside, stepping toward a 'droid busily cleaning the empty autopsy table as I interjected the answer. "He did that because Hutts are hermaphroditic."

Etz and Blade stared blankly at each other, then turned, twisting their heads to look at me as Rogue and Holder nodded knowingly.

Doc Shurte, who had been standing behind me listening, stepped forward into the empty space I had vacated, interjecting at this point. "A hermaphroditic animal is one that has both male and female reproductive organs and sexual characteristics. Basically, a Hutt's apparent gender comes from a conscious decision made by each individual Hutt as to which gender it identifies with."

"Didn't see that coming" commented Blade.

"Didn't _want_ to see _that_ coming" said Etz.

There was a moment of silence as the doctor adjusted one of the monitors, and checked a lead connection on Holder's chest. "Let's let him get some rest. We can continue this conversation over there" he said, indicating a young woman working at a desk across the room near the morgue drawers.

"One last question", said Rogue. "Were the Banthas used a the dig site tagged in any way? How will we find it?"

Holders eyes were shutting as he answered, "No tags. We didn't use tags. We may not be able to find this, but luckily . . . they may not be able to either."

With that, we all filed away from the bed as Holder closed his eyes and the doctor drew a curtain around the bed.

One of the student archaeologists was seated at the desk, silently cataloguing a recent find. Felth sat down on the corner, flipping the power switch of his blaster on and off, on and off impatiently. When she continued working, quite unimpressed, he stood up abruptly and walked through the door to the waiting area.

Rogue pulled Blade aside as they walked toward the desk. "Have 4120 and 0600 pay a visit to the Port Authority. They've developed such a wonderful rapport with that office now. And I want 1265 keeping a visual on both Kaird and Guri's ships."

Blade nodded as he stopped beside the desk, leaning in close to Rogue, not realizing I could hear. "I can do that sir, but may I offer the services of my _'shadow'_? At the moment, she's laying low at the Dowager Queen with nothing to do, and she has no discernable ties to any of us. It also keeps 1265 free for us to use."

Rogue considered the suggestion, then quietly replied. "Can you trust her?"

Blade looked away momentarily, then back to Rogue. "I trust her, sir."

"Do it, but have her take one of them, and put 1265 on the other. We have enough people going with us; he's much better utilized to keep watch on them." replied Rogue. "We're going to need to move on this fast and find it first."

The student spoke up, keeping her attention focused on the relic she was cleaning in her hands. "If you're looking for something old out there, we can help." She looked up. "It's what we do. If it's a dead Bantha you're looking for, local legend tells of a Great Bantha Graveyard littered with the bones of a thousand dead Banthas. When a Bantha knows it's time is drawing to an end, it journeys out into the Dune Sea in search of the graveyard, and its place to die. We've been looking for their graveyard as part of our study. We could work together."

Rogue looked at me, then to the student, then over to the doctor. "Doc, they'll be working with us for a while."

He shifted his attention back to the student. "OK, kid let's get your group together out front for a quick briefing. We've got a lot of work to do."

She stood up from the desk, hurrying off to gather her friends.

I leaned closer to Blade as we walked toward the door. "Your shadow is here? When did that happen?"

He looked back at me. "I uncovered her in the marketplace. It isn't common knowledge to anyone but Rogue, and now you. Keep it to yourself, OK Deck?"

I nodded silently.

"Her?"

He shot me a blank look.

Rogue headed through the door to the front of the building. As we followed him out, I paused at the doorway, turning back. "Doc, keep that old man's corpse on ice and protected in case we need him."

He nodded, glancing back to the drawer that contained Watcher's body, his forehead creased with growing concern.

Luke struggled to lift R2 over a rockslide that blocked the already rough path to Kenobi's home. The little astromech bleeped his thanks. His lateral hover jets had been removed years earlier by the director of the labor pool onboard the Tantive IV during a re-fitting with tool arms for certain mission specific duties. If it was possible for a 'droid to miss something, he surely missed his jets.

He waddled after his new master as he entered the stone dwelling. The twin suns had already set and the sky overhead which had been ablaze with staccato streaks of oranges and purples, set against the dark blue sky was now fading into blackness, pinpricked with starlight.

Luke closed and bolted the door behind the little 'droid and walked into the darkness of the main room. Nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. Slowly he sat down in the spot Ben had occupied on that tumultuous day they met, and rested his head back against the stone wall. A wind gust made a whistling sound as it was forced through the small space around the door, breaking the silence. The stone building felt so empty with Ben gone, so much smaller now, as did most of his old life. His Aunt and Uncle were dead, and his closest childhood friend was also gone. Biggs had always been the big brother Luke always wanted. He missed that, and was angry at having been robbed of the opportunity to have great adventures with him; all those adventures they had talked about and he had dreamed of while staring off into the countless sunsets over the years.

Pushing those thoughts back in his mind, he stood, making his way to the back room where Kenobi's modest bed sat neatly made. He sat down on the firm surface, rolled onto it, and stretched his legs. In his hand was the small cube-shaped holocron Ben had left for him.

At that moment, R2 rolled into the room beside the bed, making a small nervous scraping noise. Luke closed his eyes and allowed his neck muscles to relax as his head sank deeper into the pillow. "We'll head out there tomorrow R2. Go out into the main room and power down to sentry mode, OK?"

The little 'droid bleeped again, whirling in a tight circle, scooting away into the darkness.

"That's right; big day tomorrow."

The rest of the muscles in Luke's body slowly relaxed, and he drifted into a deep and much needed sleep.

Snow blasted across the nose of the fighter as Solo maneuvered his Y-wing through the whiteout conditions of the blizzard blasting the surface of Hoth. His face, dimly illuminated in the small, dark cockpit by the instruments, revealed his elevated level of concentration. He would rather fly by sight any day, but he found himself needing to dust off his old skills and fly by instruments only, as he made his way toward the encrypted beacon heading and the obscure base the rebels were building.

Slowly out of the darkness and speeding fury of the Hoth night came the dim glow of the cavern entrance and open shield doors of the base. He cut his engines and extended the landing gear as he passed through the doors, drifting noiselessly through them on his repulsor field into the slot designated for his ship.

Ice that had formed across the Y-wing's skin cracked and fell away as he pushed open the canopy. Dack slid by, rotated slightly, and set his X-wing down in the open slot alongside Wedge's shredded bird.

As the two pilots powered down all systems, members of the flight crew that were still on duty moved quickly beneath both ships. They scraped the ice away from the metal skin where it covered power and fuel ports, and connected the necessary feed lines.

One of the deckhands moved out from beneath the Y-wing, secured a ladder to the side of the ship just beneath the cockpit, then turned and gave a nod and thumbs up to a tech inside the control room along one side of the hangar. Moments later, as Solo descended the ladder, the massive outer shield doors lurched with the sound of metal scraping on metal as they began to slowly creep closed.

He unzipped the front of his orange flight suit as his eyes moved to Dack's ship where Toryn Farr was waiting for the young pilot to climb down to her. His eyes darted to Wedge's ship, and then to the empty slot where Luke's should have been. The Corellian smuggler pulled his arms free of the flight suit, folded it down, and tied the sleeves around his waist half wishing the Princess had been waiting for him.

He still wasn't sure exactly how he had gotten mixed up with the Rebellion, but at least no bounty hunters had caught up to him yet. The time would come when he could no longer wait, and he'd have to settle things with Jabba properly, Princess or not. He shot a sideways glance to the crew member working on his ship. "Where is Lu . . . Commander Skywalker's fighter?"

The tech continued screwing shut a small control panel on the underside of the engine, answering Solo without looking. "The word that trickled down to us from General Rieekan was not to expect him."

"Rieekan huh?"

Han sharply turned and caught sight of Dack and Torynn walking away together, talking quietly. He watched the pair as they disappeared into a dark hallway on the far side of the hangar. Pushing thoughts of Leia to the back of his mind, he hastily exited, heading down the narrow winding ice corridor that led to the Command Center.

As he disappeared from sight, high up on the opposing cavern wall there was movement in one of the small control rooms. A figure moved out of the shadows and stepped toward the transparisteel. Leia Organa watched Captain Solo through her own reflection. When he could no longer be seen, she dropped her eyes and leaned her head against the pane, rolling uneasy thoughts over in her mind. Abruptly, her eyes flicked up and she stepped back, disappearing once again into the shadows.

Zu was the last one of the small archaeological team in, and she closed the door to the small bunk room. The evening winds were kicking up, and a spray of sand had blown in across the floor. She walked past her friends to her trunk, stripping off her jacket and shirt.

Ashkii stowed some of the heavier gear away as Daegan paced back and forth, his thoughts boiling over into words. "What the hell were you thinking, telling Imperial troops we'd help them?"

Erek slid the sun visor back off his eyes and chimed in from where he reclined in his bunk, "Yeah, what made you think you could speak for all of us?"

Even Miren was frustrated with her team mate "Come on Alina, you need to think, girl. I don't like the idea of getting involved with them."

'Lina looked up from the artifact she was cataloguing, shot a harsh glare at Miren, and addressed the room in general, "You guys, I don't like it any more than you do, but the one thing that flashed through my head while they were talking in there was that they have resources we would never have access to. Helping them helps us. If we find the graveyard together, it's a huge coup for our team, and they find whatever it is they're after."

Ashkii leaned against the wall, "Do you even know what it is they're after?"

'Lina rolled her eyes, "Does it really matter, Ash?

Zu pulled a shirt on and sat down on her bunk, "Yeah, it could matter a lot. Looking for the graveyard on our own is one thing. Dragging Imperial troops across the sands looking for it is another. Imperial Troops 'Lina! Are you crazy? Whatever it is they're searching for could be really dangerous."

Bem, who had been quietly standing in the shadows of the corner listening, interjected. "You know, it's not what any of us would ideally want, but 'Lina's right. This does help us."

A frustrated Daegan threw his goggles across the room to his bunk. "Come on, Bem. You know we don't need any extra attention, especially from the local law enforcement."

Bem shifted his stance. "The rest of us aren't necessarily squeaky clean, I know, but I think what you mean to say is that YOU don't need the extra attention."

Daegan's eyes narrowed a bit as he stared across the room at Bem. "That's no secret. Everyone knows why I wanted this location."

Bem stood a bit taller, slipping his own goggles into a baggy pocket on his thigh and turning to face Daegan. "That may be, but you're the only one on the team that's hanging out in the Outer Rim because things got too hot at home."

Daegan's eyes darted from face to face around the dim room. "I've got news for you; all of you are hanging out with me! We all agreed this was a great hiding place for me to lay low where we could also get some work done. Nobody entertained the idea of partnering with Imperial troops until now!" He turned his head, and directed his glare toward 'Lina.

It was at that moment that the door burst open and Doc Shurte hurried through, sand blowing and wind howling in the darkness behind him. The old man closed the door quickly and turned, glancing around the room at the troubled faces.

"Ah, yes. I thought there might be a bit of unrest in here." He walked toward the center of the room and came to stop between Bem and Daegan, turning to look at the latter. "Son, I wouldn't let you do this if I thought there was a problem. I promised my sister that you and your friends would be safe here."

Daegan turned away, pointing at 'Lina. "That's great, but she's all but delivered me to the Empire!"

Doc looked around the room, over his glasses, as he spoke, "I can tell you something is up. These troops aren't following a normal Imperial protocol. If they had been, they would've never sought my help for their comrade lying in that bed inside. Under proper protocol, the circumstances under which I came to be needed would have surely meant Holder's evacuation from this place for de-briefing at least. At the very least."

The doc lifted the glasses from the bridge of his nose as he rubbed the skin where they had been resting. "No, I believe these troops are somehow operating outside the realm of the Empire, and have very little, if any, interest in you. With that said, 'Lina threw the barn door wide open when she volunteered to help them. They'll be back in a few days geared up and ready to go."

He replaced his glasses, looking through them at Daegan. "Don't make more of this than it is. In this case, any fight you have with them will be one you brought on you. The best thing you can do now, my boy . . . is get some rest . . . and help them."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32 – Inchoation**

Sand was held out by the magnetic shield as the overhead bay doors drew together, sealing out the dark sky and wailing winds. Topolev was waiting for us, and as our speeder settled to its repulsor-field hover cushion, he popped open a small port in the hull, securing the charging cables.

Etz cut power and those of us that had been riding in the exposed rear portion of the transport pulled off helmets and shook sand from beneath our armor plates in the still, dank air of the bay. Topolev hollered back to us as he returned to his work in the adjacent cache supply room. "How's Holder?"

Danz pulled off his gloves and hand armor, stuffing them inside his helmet, looking around at the rest of us, "Is it just me, or was that wind actually a little bit cold?"

"You turning into an old woman, Danz?" laughed Blade. I laughed a bit too as I pulled off my gloves and watched for a reaction.

Felth jumped in before Danz could respond. "No, he's right. Some of the locals on the street the other day were talking about getting the harvest in before winter hit. It must almost be here."

"What do they grow here anyway, this place is one big sand pit" said Etz, jumping down off the tailboard.

Felth began explaining to them about hydroponic crops as I looked across to Danz. "I don't know about you, but I could stand some cooler weather." He nodded his silent agreement.

In the cache room, Topolev sat down next to 4120 and went back to cataloguing the holo-cards. "I guess nobody heard me."

4120 stood up as Topolev returned to their desk in the main cache storage room. "I heard you." He walked past me to Rogue as he re-wrapped the synth-skin at the wrist of his cybernetic hand. He repeated Topolev's question. "How's Holder?"

Rogue, preoccupied in semi-deep thought replied rather mechanically. "Recovering . . ." He hesitated a second, staring off into space, then turned to 4120. But we have a bigger issue." He looked up, locking eyes with 4120. "What do you know about the death ritual of the elderly, indigenous Bantha?"

4120 looked a bit puzzled at this random and bizarre question, and was at a loss for a reply. We were all listening now.

"Exactly" said Rogue. "Not one of us knows anything about it. So . . . we're going to need the insight and guidance of a local in addition to the scientific approach of that group of kids on the archaeological team. They're not from here either. They're from Balmorra."

"Archaeological team?" asked 4120.

"It's a long story. I'll explain, but we need all troops recalled from their patrols and duties. Based on the players already looking for this thing, there's a good reason it was hidden, and probably an even bigger reason to find it, and find it first. We're going to need everyone's help. Call them back to base, and get Garindan in here. I need to put our snitch to work."

4120 nodded. "Right away."

Rogue pulled Blade aside. "You need to have a conversation with your shadow. We don't need any friendly fire accidents" Blade nodded.

Felth watched 4120 as he headed for the upper level comm center. He couldn't help but wonder who else Garindan might already be helping.

The still quiet of the darkened med lab was broken only by the occasional whine or flutter of a machine or 'droid. Holder lay in his bed thinking. Kaird was here, now on this planet again, and while it was likely that he didn't even remember about the tracker in his head, for Holder, the elapsed twenty years since the implant was fired into the back of his head only seemed like days.

He stared at the ceiling, with half memories still flashing and falling into place in his head, keeping sleep just out of reach. He gave up trying to get rest and instead, slid a hand under his pillow, retrieving a sheathed knife. As he turned off the bedside monitors, he ripped off their leads and pulled out his IV lines. Rolling to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, he allowed himself a moment to adjust to being upright. He stood up, feeling the cool stone floor under his bare feet and the ID tags around his neck sliding back and forth across his chest as he walked silently toward the 'fresher.

Once inside he carefully closed and locked the door. A lone luminary winked on as the door closed, its intense light streaming down from just above a wall-mounted mirror. Silently, he stepped in front of it and locked eyes with his reflection. He hadn't aged at all, but felt incredibly lost. He didn't really belong in this time, and yet he no longer belonged in the past either. Twenty years gone in a flash.

He closed his eyes and raised his left arm to his head, running the tip of his index finger slowly back across his scalp; over the top and toward the base of his skull. He was almost to the soft tissue of the neck when he felt the slight bulge beneath the skin, sitting up just above the bone. His eyes opened slightly as he slid his fingertip back and forth several times across the bump to ensure it was the right spot.

Once convinced it was, he held his fingertip on it as he slid the knife from the sheath with his right hand. Carefully, and with a firm grip, he raised it to his head. The blade slowly pushed through his hair until the sharp, pointed tip came to rest on the bump as he saw the scene in his minds' eye. Sliding his left finger out of the way, he firmly pressed the blade into his skin just below the knot. He slid it slightly so the blade sliced through the taut flesh, which split open under the sharp edge and parted cleanly.

Blood instantly welled up in the crude incision and began to flow freely and in great abundance. With the sharp tip of the blade he probed the bloody opening, scraping through the tissue and bone until it found the edge of the small metallic tracking implant.

Sliding his left hand around to brace his forehead, he forced the tip of the knife between the small, tubular implant and the bone of his skull and began carefully prying it out with short jerks of the blade.

His hand glistened with blood now as he worked, dripping from it down his back in a steady, near-constant flow. Finally he felt the tiny cylinder dislodge from the bone. Carefully, he pulled the knife away, bringing it around under the lamp for a look. On the bloody blade sat a narrow cylinder about two centimeters long. He rolled it slowly with a bloody fingertip. It was still intact and still transmitting.

"Perfect."

It was nearly morning when Chewbacca rolled out of his modified crew bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon and noted that Solo's bunk had not been slept in. The gentle giant stepped out into the main walkway that encircled the ship. As he stepped onto the smooth deck panels, he raised the strap of his bandolier with attached satchel over his head and situated it properly on his shoulder.

Powerful Wookiee hands pushed one of the thick metallic erg clips back into its secure, centered position in the leather bandolier as he took a quick look into the cockpit. Solo was not there either.

He gathered up the tool kit and welding set he had left on the gaming bench and headed for the main boarding ramp.

The segmented, circular hatch rotated up into the ship, revealing the ramp, as the Wook stepped out onto its frigid, inclined surface. Once out, he closed the hatch, sealing in any heat to be found inside the 'Falcon.

It was very early and activity was sparse within the hangar. A few technicians worked on repairs to Wedge's fighter and the ice cutting crew was assembled in a meeting huddle discussing the layout of the lower levels. Everyone wore thermal gear. Even in the relative protection afforded within their ice base, temperatures were still cold enough to cause damage if you weren't properly insulated. Being a Wookiee, he didn't have to worry about such things.

A young rebel ran past with an armful of Tauntaun harnesses and waved to the hairy Wookiee.

"Good morning Chewbacca."

Chewie woofed a pleasant grunted reply as the young woman continued running toward the corral. If Solo wasn't around, this might be the perfect time to work on that faulty central landing claw. As he stepped off the ramp and crouched to move beneath the ship, his eyes peered under toward the claw . . . only to see Solo, in his parka with the hood up, sitting atop a supply crate with his is head resting against the extender hydraulics of the claw, fast asleep.

A woof of frustration escaped the Wook's lips as he turned away, quickly deciding instead to work on upgrading the ancient cooling lines that snaked across the upper hull.

Only moments later a claxon screeched once, and the shield doors began to retract, opening up to another Hoth morning. The noise awakened Solo, who rolled his head to watch the doors open. The morning sky that lay beyond didn't look any different than the dark, stormy sky he had flown through returning to base the night before. Winds whistled and groaned, blowing snow and fog inside the huge cavern.

A blast of the cold air streamed through the hangar and across his exposed neck. Shivering a bit, he secured his parka up to just beneath his chin and pulled the furry hood nearly closed across his face.

Mercifully, the haunting images of the nightmare he'd been having of his childhood on the streets of Corellia were fading rapidly as he began to fully awaken. Like shadows hiding from approaching light, they fell away from him. As they did, a new set of nightmarish thoughts slipped in to take their place; thoughts of Jabba The Hutt and how he must be hunting him over dumped cargo.

It was something that needed to be taken care of, and soon. His reward money would more than cover the payoff and Fett was temporarily out of the picture until he could have the outrigger on Slave I remounted and repaired.

His eyes darted to the edge of the hangar as a small group entered. Mon Mothma and Leia, flanked by Alia and Yane' made their way slowly across the hangar, looking at the ships and discussing various plans and strategies.

The base was still rough, but slowly beginning to come together. He decided to wait until the recon flights were completed and some sort of perimeter defense system was in place. He didn't want to leave Leia behind until at least that level of protection was up and running.

Leia.

Thoughts of her raised a whole other set of issues. What about Bria? He had just learned of her death. Had she meant nothing to him? And what about Jenny back on Tatooine and all the others strewn across the galaxy? Was he ready to give them up for her?

His eyes moved to the two techs working on Wedge's ship and the empty space beside it. Why would Luke just disappear like that without any warning? The kid definitely had skills, but he also had a knack for needing a safety net. With Kenobi gone, he somehow felt compelled to step up and provide the backup as he had in the Battle of Yavin.

Did he feel some kind of obligation to help this kid? His thoughts drifted away to another kid in another time; one whose face had haunted him in the murk of his dreams mere moments ago.

He had been one of many street kids that night, out scavenging for food. All were too cocky for their own good; all were that way to hide the bottomless fear that threatened to consume them. On that particular night he'd found himself stuck watching out for that younger kid. What was his name?

The shifting images of years long blurred began to coalesce, slowly revealing unpleasant and untidy memories of that ink-black night in the forgotten alleys of Corellia. Memories of that older gang member with the drawn blaster, accusations about them being in the wrong sector.

Han was just a boy, but he had tried to be the honorable man. He had a small makeshift blaster, cobbled together from spare parts found in the scrap heaps near the shipyard.

As terrified as he had been, with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, he kept it holstered on his hip. He was just a street kid, but he still understood the concept of honor. He never revealed his fear, and he promised himself he wouldn't kill on a hunch or a gut feeling.

How utterly wrong that naïve little boy had been.

It was here that the memory remained fuzzy. Time had seemed to slow that night in the alley. The older kid drew on them, followed by a flash from both the muzzle and rear of his gun. It discharged a bolt, but the energy coupler in the discharge chamber had exploded in the process, temporarily blinding the boy holding it.

The smell of ozone rushed over him as he covered his eyes reflexively. As he did so, the youngster in his care crumpled to the street, having been hit at close range.

In the confusion following, Han ran, as fast as he could away into the night, the sound of his heartbeat slamming against his eardrums. He hadn't stopped running until he saw that small, dark space under the naval loading dock and scrambled inside.

Ever since that night, whenever those neck hairs stood on end from a hunch, that life or death, knotted hunch in his gut . . . he took care of himself and those with him.

He didn't hesitate or think. He shot first, and worried about the details and the mess later.

The small belt hook ring on the lightsaber trembled, but would not rise. The weapon rested alongside Luke's holocron atop a small bench. Luke sat on Kenobi's bed, focusing intently on the lightsaber. His arm was extended toward the hilt, calling it, willing it into this hand.

Obi Wan's voice spoke again from the holocron. "Feel the Force push and pull like a great wind or the absence of air. Like water washing in and away from the shore. Feel the object's energy and merge it to your own. Become one with it."

Still the belt hook merely trembled. Luke relaxed his arm. He was exhausted.

Master Kenobi spoke again. "Do not think of the Force as a tool to be wielded. Think of it as an extension of your own energy, extending and BECOMING the tool. It will obey your commands just as your arm or your hand would because it is part of you, and you are part of it."

Luke took a breath and raised his hand again, relaxing this time and visualizing what he saw in Kenobi's instruction. He imagined his own reach extending out to the hilt. The belt loop trembled again, a bit more agitated this time. He relaxed further, breathing evenly, envisioning his fingertip raising the loop.

Across the room, the tiny ring snapped up to face him just as R2 rolled whistling through the doorway. His concentration broke, and the ring dropped. He exhaled, clearly frustrated. "Yes R2, we're leaving soon."

As R2 rotated to leave, one of his outer feet struck the base of the bench. Both the holocron and the lightsaber were jarred and fell. Luke lunged forward making the split-second decision to grab the holocron, allowing the saber hilt to fall to the stone floor with a loud clattering.

"R2 be careful!"

He put the holocron on the bed and knelt down to pick up his lightsaber. When he picked it up, several small pieces of clear glass fell to the floor. He rolled it over to see that the ancient glass sensor eye had shattered.

Shielding his eyes and holding the hilt as far away from his body as he could, he pressed the activation button. Instead of the normal, meter-long energy shaft, a small needle-thin shaft of barely twelve centimeters appeared.

Sparks popped and fell from inside the shattered lens as the blade suddenly stretched out to full length. Just as quickly back to the short length, and began cycling between the two length settings.

Disgusted, Luke switched it off as he shot R2 a look. The little droid rotated his dome away, avoiding eye contact.

"Great. The length adjustment is shot. Now what am I going to do? You broke it R2!"

Suddenly, above the holocron, the image of Kenobi flickered and disappeared, replaced with a display of schematics; lightsaber schematics. Luke leaned in close, studying them as Kenobi's voice whispered.

"You will need the tools and parts from my home and the cave, and then . . . you will need to take them to one final place. Find those pieces and I will guide you the rest of the way."

The calm of the empty street was broken as Etz, Danz and Blade stepped out of the barracks into the still morning air. Though ambient sunslight now filled the sky, the gleaming twin suns had not yet arisen beyond the horizon.

As the door slid shut behind them, a cloaked shape walking their way hastily slipped into the shadows of an alleyway further down the street. Etz and Danz slipped on their helmets and set off for the morning patrol loop of the spaceport, having missed the figure's quick retreat into the darkness.

Blade stood in his black flight suit, watching as they walked away. Then he turned sharply, heading off in the opposite direction, making his way toward the center of town. He was preoccupied, having promised Rogue he would speak to the shadow; the incredibly attractive shadow woman that waited at the Dowager Queen.

For the upcoming mission, he would need her to stay behind and not trail him, for her own safety. The search for the lost security recordings could be very dangerous, and he needed to be sure that anyone tracking his group was a target, not a friend. He shook his head; he didn't even know her name.

Holder peered from beneath the deep cloak as Etz and Danz disappeared onto an adjacent street. He watched silently, deep in thought, as Blade moved further away. Should he follow him, or the other two? He looked down to the small cylindrical transmitter in his palm, and then back in the direction the others had taken. Having made his decision, and when he felt comfortable with the distance between them, he pulled the thick cloak in closer around his face and cautiously stepped out into the empty street to follow Blade.

The vivid people and situations that fleshed out my dreams began to evaporate into darkness as I mentally ascended toward consciousness. In those last few moments of sleep, I could hear the sounds of morning in the barracks before my eyes ever opened.

When my brain was fully functioning at a level that told me what I was hearing was real, my eyelids slowly parted, letting reality in. The still dim room was fairly out of focus, so I blinked again. This time I opened my eyes to crisp detail.

Topolev, 1265 and Falker were carrying supplies from the front office through to the storeroom in the back.

4120 was sitting on the bunk adjacent to mine. He had the small metal case containing his cybernetic replacement hands open, and was unwrapping the synth-skin at his wrist. "Finally decided to join us, eh Deck?"

My eyes fell shut again and I rolled onto my back, feeling the bones in my neck crack as they realigned. I exhaled slightly. "Yeah, and lucky me, the first thing I see is your sorry ass."

We both grinned without seeing the other do so, and he continued. "You know, you snore like a dying Bantha."

He shot a look my way as the artificial skin came loose from his arm revealing the implanted metallic stump and the attached modular hand. He looked back to the gleaming joint as he moved the hand around. Rogue and Felth walked past discussing supply needs for our search party.

I was still grinning a little as I lay a forearm across my eyes. "Well, I guess that's better than taking after you; looking and smelling like the other end."

Again we both grinned.

I moved my arm off my eyes and sat up. "What's wrong with the hand?"

He scratched at his real skin where it disappeared beneath the stump cap. It was bright red and looked swollen.

"It's been irritated for a week or so now; it itches something fierce. It's giving me a banging headache and the synth skin won't stay attached."

I leaned closer for a better look. "It looks like it might be infected. You should have the doc look at it before we head out. We may be gone a while. You don't want that thing getting any worse."

He attached the sticky end flap of a new roll of synth-skin to the back of the cyber hand and began wrapping the joint. "If I have time to, I will."

I looked around; making sure the others had emptied from the room before turning back to him. "Do you get a weird vibe from Felth, or is it just me?"

He kept wrapping. "What do you mean?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Something just seems off about him. I can't put my finger on it specifically, but there's something about him. Things I've seen him do or not do, messages he's sent over the holonet. Maybe just keep an eye on him?"

He looked over to me as he kept wrapping and nodded slightly, "Yeah, sure." I nodded back as Felth and Rogue walked hurriedly through again, heading for the rear storeroom.

We both silently followed him with our eyes.

The elusive shadow of Garindan slunk almost invisibly through the streets. He knew where to find the pack Eopies needed for the journey, and was running through a mental list of people who could possibly lead the troops and scientists on their search as he walked. There were several crusty old scrap dealers he knew that had crisscrossed the Dune Sea in search of salvageable parts. On any given night, after a few drinks, they spun elaborate tales of an immense boneyard out in the 'Sea. No one had ever taken the drunken fools seriously, until now.

As he was nearly to the first of the parts shops, another person suddenly came to mind with a flash. He stopped short in his tracks, his mind reeling. It baffled him why he hadn't thought of the 'Sandman of Tatooine' sooner. Delighted with the recollection, he disappeared into the shop to interview the first of the parts men on his list. His questions would reveal if they were promising, and a good fit for the team, or merely a drunken cantina storyteller.

*

Doc Shurte held a hand up before his face, deflecting the fine sand spray thrown up from the departing 'speeder. He watched it accelerate away across the flats as his Rodian assistant headed for home.

Holder's bed was empty and he was gone, as was the swoop bike that had been chained up out back. The aging doctor sighed. Hed have to call rogue and let him know the Commando was missing.

A slight wind carried on it the distant wailing of womp rats as Daegan approached him from behind.

"Uncle, it's time."

Shurte looked from the horizon down to his feet. "The clinic is locked up, are all the supplies ready?"

"Everything's ready. All supplies are packed and on the repulsor sled. It's nearly midday and the crew is irritated enough about having to go to the troops instead of them coming here. They're anxious to head out so we can make it to Mos Eisley before nightfall. It's going to be slow going dragging that overloaded sled behind your old speeder."

The older man nodded silently, his brow furrowed with unspoken concern.

A mixed roaring of both the new energy blades and the older mechanical cutting claws rebounded from the frozen walls and ceiling as the crews scraping the base layout from the ice continued their work. The newer digger models used energy blades that vaporized the ice on contact, but there were only two of those and funding wasn't there for more.

The older diggers were far cheaper and easier to come by and were equipped with long rows of spinning durasteel blades which ground deeper and deeper into the ice walls as it advanced. All the while, a fine spray of ice shards was ejected from beneath them until the repulsor bins attached below were sufficiently loaded. When they were, a small sensor within the bin activated an alarm on the operator's datapad console as the cutter was automatically disengaged and the digger shut down.

Once released from the main vehicle, the robotic bins wound their way through the tunnels and hangars of the slowly growing rebel base to the outside. As they traveled, the container full of ice shards was slightly heated and compressed, and then allowed to re-freeze in the frigid Hoth air, creating large ice blocks. These were then deposited for ground crews outside the base before the bin returned to its digger. The blocks were then used for creating ice walls around lookout posts and along the fronts of the defensive trenches.

This small piece of Hoth was slowly and begrudgingly giving up the shelter and storage they needed to house the rebel forces. Leia watched as one of the robotic bins returned from the main hangar level above, reattaching itself to its digger which immediately resumed cutting.

"Progress is being made Mon Mothma, but perhaps not as fast as we might like. The crews are working nonstop in shifts, but most of the equipment is outdated. They can't go much faster." The Princess was nearly shouting to be heard over the noise.

Mon Mothma's aide, Alia, who had been standing quietly between the two women, took a step back so as not to block the eyeline between the two leaders. The slightly greying, more mature rebel leader responded slowly, carefully selecting her words.

"I have no doubt they are working as quickly as they can, Leia, and I'm sure the base will be completed soon. However; my time here grows short. I must soon return to the rest of the command fleet. Admiral Ackbar has quite a task trying to keep a group of ships that large from being discovered, and there is work still to be done bringing new systems and resources to our cause."

Leia was watching Mon's face as she spoke. "There's something else. Something you're not saying. What is it?"

The older woman cut her eyes quickly away to the ice shredding machines. "Walk with me, Leia." She turned to her aide, raising a gentle hand in the air. "A private moment please, Alia? This will only take a moment."

Alia bowed her head and stepped back, "Of course, milady." Her eyes followed them as they turned to walk out into the privacy of the hallway.

Thankfully the dim corridor was a bit quieter, affording them a calmer exchange. Mon glanced back into the room to see Alia taking an interest in the cutter machines and talking with the crew. The noise level in the adjacent room was sufficient to cover their conversation anyway. She turned to face Bail Organa's daughter.

"I hear Commander Skywalker has disappeared again."

"Mon, I'm aware of this as is General Riek . . . ."

"I know Leia, I know. I do not question your ability to lead, but I am quite concerned with our newest Commander. There is no debating that his actions at the Battle of Yavin saved us all, and the Rebellion. And yes, I know he has left us to further his understanding of the Jedi way."

Leia cut in, "In order to be a more effective opponent of the Empire."

Mon Mothma took a few steps away, looking off down the corridor, far away as if looking into another time. She took a moment to draw in a slow breath from the frosty air, and then exhale deeply.

"What troubles me is not his current absence; it is the ghosts of the past that he and his antique Jedi weapon have resurrected within me. It could be brought to bear on us as it once was many years ago against the members of another group. He wields his lightsaber for good, but that weapon has caused more agony, anguish and turmoil than you may realize. Seeing it on our young Commander's belt raised the hair on the back of my neck, Leia. That name, that weapon; we must be certain. We must be certain of his intentions, and he must be watched closely going forward."

"His name? Why do you fear him so?" asked Leia. "He was led to us by Obi-Wan Kenobi. Surely he knew what he was doing and was a powerful enough Jedi to see a favorable future with Luke on our side."

"I have known General Kenobi for many years, and I am confident that he had only our best interests in mind where Commander Skywalker is concerned, but . . . it wouldn't be the first time he put too much faith in a pupil."

She dropped her gaze to the ground, again choosing her words very carefully as she danced around the painful truth and past she and Leia's parents had fought so hard to keep hidden. She mentally worked to bury her thoughts, her emotions. They could be read all too easily.

"Leia, for all that you know of the birth of the Empire and the Rebellion, there is much that you do not. There are only a handful who knew all the entanglements and complexities surrounding the descent of the Republic into the darkness cast by the Empire. Most of those who do are now dead, leaving only myself and one or two others. Trust me when I say it is neither a weight that can be shared with you at the present time, nor a mantle you would want to be burdened with. As a bit of a Force-sensitive myself, I can tell you that the ebb and flow of the Force can pull strongly to dark areas we may not wish to go. Vader and his Emperor are both ruthless and must be stopped at all costs. We cannot risk losing young Skywalker to that dark path. Watch him closely. He could be our salvation, but if he turns . . . he could also be our undoing."

The last of Mon Mothma's comments lingered in the air, increasing in weight as the moments passed. Suddenly that silence was interrupted by a hideous roar, immediately followed by screams and blaster fire coming from the room they had just left. Both women turned abruptly to look.

Bright flashes and the sound of more blaster fire was immediately followed by first one, and then several from the ice cutting crew running out of the room into the corridor toward them. Another loud howl echoed off the walls.

The running troops stopped just short of where Leia was standing and turned, dropping to one knee, leveling their blasters. One of the ice cutters ripped off his goggles and turned his red face to the startled women as he powered on his blaster, "There's ice creatures in there! One of the cutters broke through into a natural ice cave behind one of the walls. When it pulled back to take a look, they came pushing through!"

"Let's get you both out of here" insisted one of the troopers, attempting to herd Leia and Mon Mothma away to safety.

"Where is Alia?" screamed Mon, wide eyed. "Where is my aide?"

The trooper turned to her grimly, "One of them took her; back into the cave. We tried to stop it, but it grabbed her and was gone. It all happened so fast."

More howls rolled down the corridor as one of the beasts made its way into the hall. A flurry of blaster fire erupted, bright crimson flashes illuminating the dim space, as the creature howled louder before stumbling to his knees and crashing dead, face-first to the durasteel floor grates.

A second of the huge beasts burst through the opening, followed by a third.

"Retreat!" yelled one of the cutting crew as they stood up and turned to run.

* * *


	33. Chapter 33

_**The Sandtrooper's Story**_

**Chapter 33 – Enter The Sandman **

Blade looked quickly to the left, then the right and exited the small room into the hall of the Dowager Queen. Two Jawas leaning against the dusty wall several doors down stopped their jabbering and turned to watch him go, their amber eyes piercing the blackness of their cloaked faces. Their gaze then moved slowly to the still-open door he had come from.

His auburn-haired shadow, 'Sabela Arlen, slid into the narrow gap between the door and frame he had vacated, watching him go.

As the doors of the turbolift closed with him inside, she silently disappeared behind the closing door of her room; echoes of their brief conversation playing over in her head as she leaned back against the inside of the door. It clicked shut and she locked the heavy bolt. She needed to know more about Kaird and Guri before heading to the spaceport to meet 1265. If they were tailing Blade's group, she needed more information.

She thought about him again; Ardan Drone, aka Blade. He didn't want her to follow; he wanted her to be safe. The more she thought about it, the less she could fight the smile creeping across her face. He was worried about her.

She went to watch, leaning toward the window pane, her face pushed into the musty, diaphanous curtains that hung to the floor. As he walked away into the masses on the sandy street below, a bent, hooded figure bumped into him in the street. Reflexively she jumped, but the stranger retreated immediately, bowing and apologizing. Flipping the safety back on, her hand moved slowly off the grip of her blaster and she relaxed as Blade disappeared into the crowd.

The door to our building slid open, and Garindan entered, trailed by a crusty, weathered old man in a hooded cloak with desert wraps covering his body and face, and dark goggles shielding his eyes. Rogue and Felth looked up from their seats at the holonet console, as the door slid shut behind their snitch.

Garindan began speaking in squeaks and squawks as Rogue motioned for him to wait. "Hold on." He reached inside his helmet, turning on the translator and switching to broadcast speaker mode. He looked back at his Kubaz spy nodding for him to continue.

The translated voice came from the helmet speakers. "I have found your guide, sir. For years he has claimed to have knowledge about the location you seek." Garindan stepped aside, bringing the man forward.

Rogue looked him over. "Who are you?"

The old man lifted and pushed back his hood, then pulled down the wraps from his face, revealing a leathery, crease and wrinkle-ridden face, and a thick head of stark white hair. He grabbed his goggles, pushing them up into the snowy tangle, revealing two ice-blue eyes that stood out against his dark, tanned skin.

"Most folks around here call me 'The Sandman' 'cause I generally live outside the towns, out in the sand. Why don't you call me Sandie? It'll make things easier."

Rogue stood up. "OK Sandie . . . I'm Rogue. Why don't you tell me what you know about the place we're looking for."

The old man got a twinkle in his eye, and a slight smile crept onto his face; only the very corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "The place you seek hides from everyone."

He looked off vacantly into a scene from his mind's eye, a sandscape from somewhere in his past travels.

"It sends instruments reeling, readings spike and fall off, and false headings breed confusion. The first time I found it completely by accident; after a sandstorm. An entrance was revealed to me when the 'Sea shifted. I quickly noted the rock landmarks, and it's a good thing, because another storm blew through soon after, covering the entrance I had found while simultaneously revealing another."

He looked back to Rogue, "The sands both conceal and disclose in their own time, like the swelling waves of a vast liquid ocean rising and falling; those things caught beneath lie patiently; waiting to be discovered."

Rogue interjected "It has many entrances?"

Sandie nodded. "I told you, it hides. It doesn't want to be found." He pulled a small collapsible bladder from his belt and took a drink. "Do you have water for a refill?"

"I've got this" said Felth, taking it from the man, and disappearing into the back.

Garindan spoke up, looking toward Sandie. "He's a little rough, but if anyone knows where this place is, my money is on him."

Rogue leaned to his right, unlocking a small box on the console. He reached in a pulled out a small wrapped parcel which he then placed in Garindan's hand. "I think this should catch us up on what we owe you." The Kubaz eyed the unmistakable package of wrapped spice sticks in his palm.

Felth reappeared, handing the container back to Sandie and taking a seat behind the holonet console.

"Thank you. Oh! It's cold too!" Sandie looked gratefully over to Felth, then back to Rogue. "I am at your disposal. When do we leave?"

Rogue nodded. "At first light. We were planning on leaving tonight, and get some traveling done when it's cooler, but we've had reports of increased Tusken activity once the suns go down, at least around here. Felth will be air-lifting us to a point out of the city, at the edge of the Dune Sea. We'll leave from there. Maybe when we get out a bit we can switch to nights."

Garindan jumped in as he turned to the front door. "I must leave now to bring your pack animals around back and ready them."

Rogue nodded as the snitch through the front door. As he exited, Holder stepped in, pulling back his hood. Ddraig, Etz and I entered from the back with a crate. Etz released the crate, turning to face the commando. "Hey Holder, you feeling any better?"

He nodded once. "Yeah, much better."

Rogue flicked his eyes to Holder. "Is Doc here already? I was expecting him shortly, but not this soon."

Sandie watched with squinting eyes as Holder responded.

"No, I left last night; wanted some time alone before we left. Doc should be here soon though. You said sundown, right?"

Rogue nodded. "Right. This is Sandie. He'll be our guide for the search."

Holder looked at the old man, reaching out a hand. Sandie took it, giving a firm shake; his ancient eyelids trembling a bit.

"Is it OK if I get him his gear?" asked Holder.

Rogue nodded. "Sure."

Holder led Sandie into the back as Ddraig, Etz and I continued loading charged blaster clips into a crate with Topolev keeping count. When we were done, and had sealed the container, Topolev turned and handed the page to Rogue for his inventory.

He was heading toward the bunk room when Rogue stopped him. "Tops, have you seen 4120 or Blade? We're almost ready and they're not here." He handed the count to Felth.

Topolev stopped, turning back to reply. "No, I haven't seen them."

Ddraig jumped in, "4120's with Garindan out back in the courtyard harnessing up the Eopies. Blade said he'd be back soon. One last sweep I guess."

Rogue nodded, thinking it over for a moment. "OK" remembering that Blade was going to speak to his "shadow".

Tiny blue sparks popped and fizzled inside 4120's mouth as he quickly re-wrapped the last remaining spice stick in his hand. Several of the Eopie's grunted. One spit into the sand as it shifted its weight on long legs anxiously. Garindan's eyes, hidden beneath his black goggles, darted from one side of the courtyard to the other as he secured a buckle on the last animal.

4120's eyes rolled back in his head a bit, and he leaned back against the half wall of the loading dock, savoring the strong flavor on his tongue and the rush as a wave of chills swept over him. His heart began beating a bit faster and the intolerable itching at his wrist began to slowly subside.

The cloaked snitch took a handful of credits and passed him two more darkly –wrapped packages before disappearing into the shadows. 4120 pulled himself together as he stood up straight, stuffing the spice into an empty belt container. As he did, Falker came out of the narrow, side alley into the courtyard. "Hey, c'mon and grab your gear. Rogue just said Doc and his crew are almost here. We've got to figure out a place for them to bed down for the night since our evening departure has been canceled. How many of them are there? I thought maybe we could put them in . . . ."

Falker and 4120 headed out through the narrow alley toward the front door leaving Garindan behind with the animals. Blade watched silently from the shadows across the courtyard. Even the Kubaz spy didn't notice him.

The Emperor sat alone; motionless with eyes closed. He was as still and rigid as the carbonite-entombed captives that populated the macabre garden surrounding him. Behind his closed eyes, a vision began to emerge from the ever-changing clouds that were the future. He saw himself, overseeing a confrontation between Vader and the missing son the Sith Lord sought.

The boy in question, Luke Skywalker, snapped at something his father said, attacking in an anger-fueled rage, driving the Dark Lord back. Lightsabers slashed and sizzled as his apprentice stumbled and fell. Luke aggressively took advantage of this, continuing his attack with a flurry of saber hacks, ultimately severing his father's sword hand. He held the tip of his blade to Vader's throat in certain victory as the image began to fade into more clouds.

A smile formed on Palpatine's warped face as he realized the potential in Luke as a new apprentice; potential he had once seen in Anakin. He cackled in amusement; his evil laughter echoing off the stony walls, glass floor and carbonite slabs. Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.

Beneath the glass floor of his Carbonite Garden, two Royal Guards in pressurized breathing suits moved carefully over the rocks and around the scattered bodies of dead Jedi until they were directly beneath the Emperor.

One looked up to adjust their position, making sure they could be seen just in front of the throne. When he was sure they were in place, they both knelt with the capsule they carried. On activation, it slid open. The second guard reached in, pulling out an armful of tattered brown cloth. The other guard reached in now, pulling out more brown cloth. Carefully they laid it out on the rocks. Both pieces came together at a clean, burned slice in the center.

Once arranged, it was clear that the cloth was in fact two halves of a heavy, brown hooded cloak. Although a body had not been recovered, Obi-Wan Kenobi's Jedi robes, collected by the recovery team onboard the Death Star were finally a part of the Emperor's grisly display from the Jedi Purge.

It was at that moment that they saw Lord Vader enter the garden above, walk to the spot directly above them, and come to kneel before his master.

Inside the crumbling ruins of the tiny B'Omarr shrine, backed as far into the corner as he could get, the little blue astromech awaited his master's return. The extended lifeform scanner, slowly turning back and forth above his dome revealed his master, beyond the stone wall beside him, and several dozen meters below.

The shimmering blue of the Tatooine sky would soon fall victim to the ambers and reds of another blazing decline into the black of night. Recalled memories of another night on Tatooine coursed through the little droid's processors. Memories of roaming the empty canyons alone in search of a settlement; vivid memories of descending a sloped stone, right up to the instant the hidden Jawas fired the immobilizing ray at him.

His frame shook a bit, and a very slight electronic whimper escaped from somewhere beneath his dome, which now turned nervously, this way and that. If a 'droid could hope, he was most certainly hoping that Master Luke would return quickly.

Far below, his master carefully followed the stony, descending path in the dim light of Obi Wan Kenobi's youthful image floating above the activated holocron. The young Alliance Commander gripped the luminous cube in his right hand. In his left was a small leather pouch of tools from his mentor's home.

Kenobi's voice echoed off the walls in the still, quiet air, "Continue down this grade and through the opening in the wall ahead."

Luke stepped beneath the dark stone arch and through the twisted breech in the downed B'Omarr starship's wrecked hull into the emptiness of the even darker room beyond. The holocron sensed its proximity to a small metallic trigger placed somewhere among the rocks to the left; just where Ben had left it.

The glowing image flickered and fluttered before disappearing, almost immediately replaced with a new and different image of Kenobi. The one that appeared was of a much older Kenobi with white hair and beard, as Luke remembered him.

The image smiled, "Hello Luke. The fact that this recording has been triggered indicates that you have found your way to my training arena."

Luke reached down into a calf pocket on his flight suit and removed a rescue flare. He twisted the metal end cap, activating it, and stood up straight, raising the brilliant white light high above his head to get a good look around as Kenobi continued.

"I converted this wrecked cargo bay into an instructional space many years ago, when you were still a toddler. I did so with the hope that someday your uncle would allow me to train you as a Jedi. With each passing year, that possibility decreased exponentially as his dislike for, and mistrust of me grew. I will also assume that since my marker triggered this particular recording, and that the holocron has led you here and not me personally, I am gone. Consider this place an extension of my home and the cave. All three are yours to do with as you see fit. Take notice of the cables overhead for balance training. The trees positioned around the arena are Bafforr trees."

Luke moved the flare to one side and the other, revealing the trees suspended around the room.

"Within their branches live Ysalimari; small creatures that not only shroud themselves and the trees from the Force, they also create an area surrounding themselves that is a deadened zone, where the Force is not rippled or disturbed; effectively concealing a meditating or practicing Jedi within this ring from unwanted detection by others."

Luke glanced around the room at the trees as the holo continued.

"On the bench to your left are several lightsabers for training. Any one of these should yield parts useful for repairing a hilt."

Luke wedged the flare between the planks of a large crate beside him and stepped over to the waist-high bench, setting down the holocron beside a small blast furnace, some dirty rags, and a piece of folded cloth. Carefully, he unclipped the damaged lightsaber from his belt and placed it gently on the cloth.

Silently he unrolled the bag of tools, and reached down to the shelf below for one of the training sabers, carefully laid out on another piece of folded cloth. They were all the same; the simple, tubular hilts nearly smooth except for several small protrusions sticking out as he rolled it over in his hands.

The black grips on the trainer were tightly screwed in place to the metallic tube of the nondescript saber. He nodded approvingly as he glanced over to his own weapon with grips that were quite loose and hopelessly askew.

As he studied the trainer, he noted that it had no glass eye lens and no bubbled activation stud, only two knurled metallic knobs with inset red buttons like the one found on his hilt and a simple circuit board activation sensor strip, but it looked to be part of the clamping collar.

Aside from having a textured band around its center, the clamp was the same as his. There was definitely nothing elegant about it, but he figured it would get the job done if he could simply swap his for this one.

He turned to the patiently waiting holographic image of Kenobi and spoke aloud, "Lightsaber repair."

Ben's smiling image retracted into the cube, replaced with detailed schematics as Luke grabbed one of the tools from the bag and set to removing the silver screws from the notched grips.

Hopefully the repairs wouldn't take very long.

The spiked cleats strapped to Solo's boots dug in to the sheer face of the ice wall, and he slammed the pickaxe into the frozen slope, pulling his way up the slick trail toward the mouth of the cave. The rest of the search team was below him, beginning their ascent.

Just outside the rough cut opening ahead he could see several soldiers standing guard with rifles drawn and energized; two facing the room, and two facing in toward him. Behind the guards he made out the figures of Leia and Mon Mothma. Both of their faces wore the pallor of extreme concern and worry as they paced; expectantly awaiting his return.

He emerged from the dim passage, breathing heavily from his climb, pulling off his goggles and hood as he stepped into the room. One of the guards shouldered his rifle and offered him a drink of water as he sat down on the idle ice cutter's treads.

Leia caught his eye, looking for a clue, anything; and for an instant he returned her worried stare with a solemn one that offered no hope. Mon Mothma also saw his expression as he looked up. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as tears fell, realizing Alia was gone.

Han took a breath and began as delicately as he knew how. "We followed every path, every corridor down there, and they're extensive. We killed several of those things, but there was nothing, no sign of her . . . until we came to the spot where it empties to the outside. There was . . ."

He paused a moment, staring off into space at the image of her mangled remains stained across the ice; staring vacantly at him, and now forever imprinted in his memory.

"There was . . . evidence . . . that she was gone."

He looked down at the goggles in his hand as Leia comforted Mon Mothma, helping her from the room toward her quarters.

Han exhaled hard. That poor kid didn't have a chance against those things.

He watched them disappear into the hallway. Several moments later, the rest of the search team emerged from the cave opening. They silently made their way past him, carrying a black body bag. Two of the guards followed them out, and two remained behind.

The Corellian smuggler sat in silence atop the cold tread plates of the ice cutter. All he could see was Alia's dead face, her vacant eyes open and staring up at him. He had seen more than his share of death over the years. Hell, he had looked through the smoke curling from the barrel of his blaster into the dead eyes of many he had helped along their journey to death, but it was always the innocent ones that got to him; the ones in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sound of his heart pounded louder and louder against his eardrums.

A group of techs startled him out of his daze as they entered the room followed by several loader 'droids. The mechs that brought up the rear were lumbering creations and carried large crates of equipment; panels and electronics for installing a locking power door over the jagged mouth of the cave to keep those creatures out. He stood up, goggles in hand as they set to work sealing the opening.

The rear courtyard was now completely submerged in shadow, and Daegan was fuming and muttering under his breath as he stepped from doc's speeder. "I don't get it, what's got us stalled here tonight? Doc was told to be here by sundown, and we all rushed to get here on time." He checked several straps across their loaded down supply sled.

"It was as much a change for us as for you" I said, watching the heat trails rippling off the speeders' side thrusters as they wound down. "Rogue told us we were leaving tonight, and then suddenly changed his mind based on some information about increased Tusken activity in the area; raiding parties coming in closer and closer every night. He felt, since we're traveling with you civilians, it would be safer to set out at first light."

I turned my head back to him, "We're not leaving from here anyway. Our drop ship is going to put us on the ground outside of town, at the edge of the Dune Sea. Our guide, Sandie, says there's a Tusken stronghold not too far out where several Bantha herds are known to gather, and thinks that it should be a good place to begin."

"Fort Tusken" confirmed Daegan. "I know the place. It dates back about 100 years or so. Some of the settlers from Bestine Township built it and gave the name Fort Tusken to honor the island of Tusken on their homeworld, Bestine IV."

"A new island in an altogether different sea. So is that one of the places your team is studying?" I asked.

"Yeah" he nodded "but from the surrounding hills with macros. The Sandpeople guard the place pretty fiercely. It's rumored that in the lower levels it houses a spring-fed pool of water. Whether that's true or not has yet to be proven. You think this place is desolate now? Back when the settlers were still in control of the fort, they were all alone out here. The Sandpeople attacked and raided it relentlessly, eventually earning them the 'Tusken Raider' nickname. 'Lina knows more about them than I do, though. She was here studying them on her own once before. I'll let her fill you in on the details. I'd probably get them wrong."

I stretched my neck to one side and then the other, cracking the stiff vertebrae. "She may be interested in a series of caves we accidentally found out in one of the nearby canyons. They've got burial chambers and cave art from some of the earliest Sandpeople, and structures that pre-date even them, going back to the Ghorfa and Kumumgah. At least that's what we were told by some of the local moisture farmers. I'll have to show her and the rest of you sometime, maybe when we get back from our little expedition."

Daegan grinned, almost laughing. "Sandie? Are you kidding me? Sandie? Is that really the guide's name?"

I concealed any amusement as I responded, nodding my head. "Our snitch, the one who found him for us, says he's known around here as 'The Sandman of Tatooine'. The old guy suggested we call him Sandie for short to make things easier. He never did give us a real name. I guess it's not really important though, as long as he knows where he's going and how to find what we're looking for."

"So, what are you looking for? 'Lina knows, but she's not talking."

Now it was my turn to grin as I dodged his question, "That's a bigger question than I'm cleared to share right now. C'mon, let's head inside, the morning's going to come early. If Rogue gives the OK, I'll let your whole team know."

Felth nodded, agreeing, "I'll have the ship ready for the morning, but there's something wrong with the thrust sequencer on the starboard engine."

Rogue shook his head as Felth read his silent concern.

"It'll be ready, but I need to get over to the docking bay to make a few repairs and adjustments and give it a test flight."

A moment of silence passed, then Rogue gave a nod. "Go ahead. I'll have 4120 finish the packing out back."

He paused and Felth turned to go, then he continued. "Just make sure it's ready to be loaded by dawn. We'll leave as soon as everything is aboard."

Felth gave a half-hearted wave of his hand and nodded without turning back as he opened the door, pushing past me and Daegan. Rogue exited the front office, disappearing into the bunk room to find 4120 as I closed the front door. Daegan followed after him and I brought up the rear a few moments later.

Every spare bunk we had in the next room was now occupied, and several bed rolls lay on the floor. 'Lina and Miren sat on Ddraig's bunk, fascinated as he worked on the astromech, explaining to them what he was doing and why. 'Lina was young, probably mid twenties and quite flirty. Miren was in her early thirties and quite attractive, but was clearly an archaeologist and scientist first.

Blade entered the room from the front, moving past me as Daegan sat down and joined Bem, Erek, Doc and Ash in their game of Sabacc. Danz and 1265 stood watching the card game while Zu sat adjacent to them on her bunk, cleaning her field stripped blaster and occasional eyeing the cards in play herself. Blade moved through the crowd, pulling 1265 aside for a brief, private conversation.

Etz, Topolev and Holder were busy packing their gear bags, while Falker and 0600 stretched out on their bunks, relaxing and watching everyone else. Sandie lay on one of the bed rolls in the corner, trying hard to watch the group, but fighting a losing battle with heavy eyelids and sleep. 1265 nodded twice to Blade, then returned to his bunk to grab his helmet and head out through the front.

At about the same moment, 4120, wearing only his black flight suit and boots, entered from the rear store room, heading past me toward the front.

"Hey, is Rogue still back there?" I asked as he passed me.

He looked back quickly, but kept moving, "Yeah but he's headed down to the cache."

I watched him disappear through the front door and then noticed Falker also watching him.

"Deck, does he look OK to you?"

"I guess so. Why?"

He shook his head slowly as 0600 cut his eyes over, listening. "I don't know exactly, can't quite put my finger on it. I mean he's usually pretty laid back, but lately he's looking a little rough around the edges; seems preoccupied and jittery; kinda on edge."

I looked back toward the front door. "Huh, I hadn't noticed."

Keeping his distance, so as not to be discovered, 4120 followed Felth through the twisting streets and hallways to the spaceport, watching as he descended the steps to the docking bay below. Something just wasn't right. There had been nothing wrong with the starboard engine thrust sequencer the last time HE had flown the ship.

Each step he took following Felth down to the bay was taken slowly and deliberately to avoid detection until he could safely watch from behind several cargo containers in the safety of the shadows. Crouched down behind them afforded him a clear view.

Felth glanced up and around the walls of the pit as he opened the maintenance hatch on the side of the engine in question for a quick look. Almost immediately, he pulled his head back out and stepped over to the toolbox, grabbing a small device with coiled cords leading to a probe.

4120 immediately identified it as a sequence analyzer and calibrator, but a puzzled look took over his sweaty face, and he pushed trembling fingers through his disheveled hair as Felth reached back inside the hatch to use the tool.

He appeared to be taking a reading, and making adjustments, then replaced the tool with the others in the box and cut only his eyes up to hovering security 'droids near the rim of the pit. He closed the access panel and wiping his hands together, disappeared up the boarding ramp into the ship.

4120 heard the power plant come on-line from somewhere within the ship, followed by the engines. They steadily rose in pitch as he rolled the whole situation over in his head. What was Felth up to? He held the swollen, red stump above his cybernetic hand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up his arm. The ship lifted from its landing gear, slowly at first, simply hovering, and then rose with certainty above the rim of the open pit, disappearing into the darkening sky as the main engines engaged.

As Felth slipped away, a perplexed 4120 walked over to the tool box, looking at the tool that had been used. It was clearly marked SEQUENCE ANALYZER/CALIBRATOR, but something was very wrong and 4120 knew it. With shaking hands, he quickly unwrapped a small stick of spice, pushed it in his mouth and bit down hard, crushing it in a shower of blue sparks that spilled out over his lips as he scratched at his infected wrist. The rush was immediate, and the pain in his arm quickly faded away

He had used that same tool before, many times at his post on Ralltiir, but it was for analyzing and calibrating the firing sequence of onboard mounted guns and cannons; it had absolutely nothing to do with engine thrust sequencer calibration on this, or any other ship.

'Sabela Arlen, in a black hooded robe, sat motionless in the shadows of the spaceport watching Guri's ship. The small communicator in her palm began to vibrate. She held it close to her mouth, barely daring to whisper, "Are you in place?"

1265's voice whispered in response, "I'm in place. Kaird's ship is looking pretty quiet. You OK?"

Without taking her eyes off the ship, she replied as there was a small movement in the cockpit, "I'm good. Let me know if anything changes, otherwise silence."

Inside the vessel under surveillance, Guri sat forward in the cockpit to the edge of her seat, positioning her face into the range of the holo-receptor's scanning beams. She appeared human, and was athletic with strong features. The hologram of a restless figure paced on the console before her. He was a tall, green-skinned Falleen; humanoid in appearance with the subtle, residual features of his ancient reptilian ancestry. A thick topknot of black hair erupted from his otherwise bald head. He turned, looking to one side as Guri began, in a warm, throaty voice.

"Kaird is here, sir. The Port Authority confirmed that his ship is here now."

He thought carefully, replying slowly at first; surgically selecting his words.

"The conversation", he paused. "That brief conversation with the Hutt, and the events that followed on that recording must never again see the light of day. Matalla tried to tell me about the Jedi, but I silenced him. He tried to warn me that the Jedi he had seen carried with him an infant, and how uncharacteristic that was for a Jedi. I couldn't be bothered with his observations of some warrior refugee; that was the obsession of the Emperor's new Dark Lord."

He took a few steps, lowering his gaze, but still staring off into nothing, as if once again visiting that dark hallway in his mind.

"I had no way of knowing then, but I now believe that the Jedi he saw was Kenobi, and the child mentioned grew to be mentored in the Jedi way, and went on to obliterate Tarkin and his Death Star."

His eyes darted from side to side. "If that were to be revealed to Vader; if Kaird were to recover that recording and present it to the Dark Lord, all of Black Sun's contracts that I worked so hard to negotiate would be finished, and the Emperor's servant would hunt me relentlessly."

He turned to look squarely at her now, his perfect white teeth gleaming as he spoke.

"If Kaird locates that recording first, he'll destroy me with it. He'll be searching alone, though; he won't involve the Hutts. He can't afford to bring them into it. I thought I was rid of this concern long ago, but now he's determined to dig up the past for his own gain. You know what must be done where Kaird is concerned."

She nodded, "And what of the Imperial troops also searching for it? How should they be dealt with?"

He looked off again, "Even if they make the find, they may not know the full extent of what they have beyond the evidence of murder, but that's a chance I am not willing to take."

He turned back to her again. "That recording can never leave Tatooine, Guri, are we clear?"

The blonde-haired human replica 'droid stared back with pale and clear blue eyes. "Clear as Adegan crystals, Prince Xizor."

His holographic image dissolved, and she took a deep breath, mimicking human behavior beautifully.

"Yes R2, I was able to fix it this time, but you need to be more careful."

The little 'droid gave a sheepish groan of apology as they made their way down to the X-wing fighter below. It sat waiting, atop a flat stone clearing at the base of the canyon.

"C'mon around here R2, and I'll quick-charge the repulsor packs so we can get you loaded in and . . ."

His sentence broke mid-stream as he noticed a figure dressed in black leaning against his boarding ladder. He reflexively unclipped his newly restored lightsaber, igniting it. The milky blue blade flashed out from the hilt, illuminating his face and arm in the dim twilight of the canyon; the low rumbling snarl of the energy beam cutting through the silence between them.

The dark figure stood up straight, but drew no weapon. Luke listened as he strained in the dim light to see; there was no cold, mechanical breathing; it was not Vader.

Suddenly it spoke, "I'm not armed. I was hoping to meet you. You are Skywalker, right?"

The voice was not menacing or threatening. Luke stood in silence, wondering who could have known he was here, let alone his name. He did not reply, allowing the silence to stand as he waited for more information. R2 whimpered slightly.

"I received a holonet message from 'BASE ONE' advising that you were on-planet. They gave me the coordinates to locate your ship. I'm the one that's been funneling information to you and the rebellion."

He paused for just a second and stepped forward into the saber's glow as he continued. Luke lowered his blade slightly, looking the other man in the eyes.

The figure took another step closer, staring back at him.

"My name is Davin Felth."

_Chapter 33: Enter The Sandman_


	34. Chapter 34

_**The Sandtrooper's Story**_

**Chapter 34 – Into The 'Sea**

It was deep in the murk of a dense mental haze that 4120, quite certain he was falling to his death, suddenly jolted awake. His arms reflexively splayed out wide back to the stone wall he sat against; his wild eyes and rapid breathing conveyed the terror of the very real sensation.

His disjointed mind raced, trying to make sense of the mental clutter in his head, trying to determine just how much time had elapsed since he had ingested the Spice stick. Like some synchronized, mechanical stamping tool, the blood pounding rhythmically through his brain created small flashes of light, strobing in the darkness behind his now closed eyelids.

From out of the darkness of the courtyard, the wide, rough tongue of one of the Eopies licked the side of his face from jaw to hairline as it lowered its head to inspect. 4120 leaned forward suddenly, reaching for his mouth as his stomach spasmed involuntarily and he vomited into the sand. The animal jerked its head away suddenly, disturbed by the abrupt sound, and the foul smell that followed. It watched as the trooper wiped his mouth and stood up, staggering; moving slowly closer to the supply sleds.

He looked around. Somehow before blacking out from the Spice rush, he must have made his way back to base and finished packing the supplies. He glanced skyward noting the blackness and stars. It's still night, he thought to himself.

Mustering all the strength and balance possible, he took the stairs up to the loading dock and opened the back door to the barracks. Quietly he navigated his way through the tangle of sleeping bodies to his bunk and rolled in. As his eyes fell closed again, he noticed Felth lying in his bunk asleep; it registered on some level in his spinning brain, and he quickly descended into a deep sleep.

Deep in the bowels of the Star Destroyer, _**Seether**_, a unit of Stormtroopers files into the cramped ships' armory to replace damaged gear and replenish supplies.

As they enter the small room, several remove their 02 tanks and wait in a line to refill them.

One trooper, helmet in hand, moves past this group directly to the repair counter and strikes up a conversation with the technician, pointing to damaged thermal imaging sensors inside his helmet.

Another sizes himself for a new pair of boots.

One sits on a bench, emptying his damaged utility belt and transferring its contents to a new belt. As he pulls out his med kit, a small datacard drops to the deck plate. He bends over to pick it up, and holds it to the light. It is cracked, in a spiderwebbed pattern with the smeared words "Base one" on it. His mind flashes back to the jungles of Yavin IV.

_He remembered bending down during the assault on the rebel base to pick up a dropped clip from the ground. It was then that he noticed the datacard, stuck in the crack between two of the metal floor grates. He remembered the smell of the explosions, the smoke, the screams and the smeared label which read "Base One". It had been stepped on and crushed; fractured in a splintered, spiderwebbed pattern. He remembered tucking it into his utility belt._

Turning the card over in his hand, he looked up, thinking a moment. Then, he gathered up his new belt and supplies, hastily leaving the room. As he rushed along a busy hallway, he passed a group of officers, then turned back, holding up the card and addressing the group.

"Sir, I found this when we infiltrated the rebel's base on Yavin. I forgot to turn it in when I got back, but it could be helpful. Can you pass it along?"

One of them turned back, looking his way as the other officers in his group went on without him. He took the datacard, his eyes never leaving the trooper. He was annoyed at both the interruption and being left behind by his peers. "I'll see it's looked into."

In a relatively quiet portion of the Expansion Region, following a course composed of short, zigzagging hyperspace jumps, the rebellion's 'Renegade group' pushes on toward Hoth. Their mission is simple: escort the transport of two Ion Cannons and the Praetor-class ship reactors to power them safely to Hoth.

From somewhere further back in the convoy, a voice crackles in Commander Narra's headset.

"Renegade Leader, this is Renegade Two."

"I copy Renegade Two, go ahead."

"Sir, one of the two transport ships is reporting a critical energy bleed from her port engine. The crew leader of the _**Allantrid**_ says the containment shielding has failed completely. They've had to evacuate the area and are being forced to shut down the reactor and engine. Unless they can stop long enough to make repairs, they won't be able to limp along fast enough to keep up with us."

"We're already out beyond the fringe of this system's inhabited regions" replied Narra. "Ask them if they think they can make it to Derra IV. We've got an outpost there. It's not much more than a storage dump, but the techs on the orbital platform should be able to fix the shielding problem."

The comm went silent.

The Commander broke from his lead position in the formation, rolling his X-wing to the right. He came around, peering through the transparisteel of his canopy, across the empty gulf of space to face the damaged transport.

A crackle came through his headset as Renegade Two patched him through directly to the crew. He heard a somewhat garbled message, filled with electronic distortion and transmission static.

"Affirmative, Renegade Leader, _**Allantrid**_ should be able to make Derra IV."

"Copy that, _**Allantrid**_. Renegade Two let's get them an escort detail. The rest of us will move on ahead and alert the station."

"Yes, sir."

The blinding brightness of the day flooded into the rear of the open drop ship. Even though still quite hot by human standards, the temperatures of the Tatooine days and nights had begun their annual decline, signaling the beginning of the harvest and the advent of winter on this Outer Rim planet. To see the rippling waves of heat rising from the brilliant, lifeless sand at the bottom of the loading ramp, one might find that hard to believe, but the planet that had already proven to each of us that it's heat was harsh and unforgiving, was gearing up to reveal a second, ugly face that was just as brutal.

Most everyone else had unloaded, but Doc was still strapped into his harness, sitting in one of the folding, metal jump seats along the side bulkhead of the drop ship. He pulled a heavily worn pair of desert goggles from his pack and was busily wiping the dirty crimson lenses. Zu noticed what he was doing and walked over to sit beside him.

She grabbed her newer-looking goggles with the blue lenses, and pulled them off her eyes, dragging them up to rest on her forehead as she eyed the old ones in doc's hands.

"How long have you had those antiques?" she asked.

He gave her a silent glance as he adjusted the straps, pulling them a bit tighter across the back of his silvery hair. Fuzzy eyebrows spilled this way and that over the red lenses as he slid them into place, working them down on his eyes to a comfortable spot, adjusting the side blinders.

He glanced around and then leaned in close to her. "I didn't have any, so . . ." He paused a moment, looking around again and finally back into her eyes. "I kinda borrowed them from Watcher's personal effects."

A mischievous smile formed on her face as she stood up, staring back down at him.

"Well . . ." she began, patting him gently on the shoulder. "He won't be needing them, I don't think."

Doc smiled back at her as he cinched the top of his pack closed and stood up. Falker and Danz pushed past them, maneuvering one of the overloaded supply sleds down the ramp to the sand, followed closely by Topolev and Ddraig pushing another.

Doc and Zu followed them out of the relative comfort afforded by the shady interior of the ship and stepped out into the sand, walking over to the others in the archaeological team. Falker, Topolev and 0600 had hitched the Eopies to the repulsor sleds and lined them up, readied to move out.

Felth and Rogue walked down from the cockpit and out from within the ship, down to the edge of the ramp. "I'll be on call if you need an emergency pick-up, supplies, and when you find the recording."

Rogue nodded, looking out into the bleaching sunslight through squinted eyes as Felth returned to the cockpit. The first trickle of perspiration ran down the side of his face. He stepped off into the sand, as he adjusted the settings on his pack. Moments later, as he walked toward the others, a cooling wave coursed through his black body glove.

The wide ramp lurched and slowly closed behind him as the engines came online. The drop ship lifted silently away from the blistering sand on repulsor power, then pulled away as Felth engaged the main drive.

Rogue turned to watch until the accelerating ship was gone from sight, heading back to base. He unclipped the personal memo recorder from his belt and held it to his mouth, pressed the record switch and hesitated momentarily. Clicking off the recorder, his eyes moved over the baked sands stretching out in all directions as far as he could see. Finally, they came to rest on the archaeologists and his guide, none of whom he knew or trusted fully.

He pressed the recorder's activation button again as he looked over to the rest of us.

"What the hell have I gotten us into?"

Our crusty guide chewed the last bit of his lunch and swallowed. From the shade beneath the makeshift canopy of fabric of his outer wrap, his ice-blue eyes moved slowly over both teams. The troops were gathered in a small circle, as were the archaeologists.

His tongue moved over his teeth, working loose the small pieces of food stubbornly caught in them. Neither the troops, nor the diggers was intentionally excluding the other; they simply seemed to naturally gravitate toward those of their own.

Miren and "Lina sat with their backs to a supply sled and had followed his lead, constructing small shade canopies above their heads. He nodded approvingly.

Temperatures out here on the 'Sea varied by 10 – 15 degrees between direct sunslight and shade. By removing the overhead sunslight, they had removed one of the four ways they were being bombarded by heat: overhead direct sunslight, heated winds, heat reflected from the sand, and the heat of contact with the sand itself. Reducing even one of these would reduce their need for water, and on an open-ended search like this, that could prove helpful.

The traveling so far had been both difficult and demanding, tapping the strength of each in the group, likely leaving them more exhausted than they might have imagined possible even a day ago. The 'Sea was blistering and merciless, with no natural shade to be found anywhere.

I glanced around the resting caravan and off to a small stony outcropping to our right. Contrary to what I had previously believed to be true about this barren wasteland, every now and then we came across sporadic clumps of coarse scrub vegetation.

In a bit of forced conversation earlier in the day, our guide had said the near invisible path we were taking was a Bantha migration trail. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was probably right. The little bit of brush had most likely sprouted from seeds left behind along the trail in dropped Bantha dung. Unfortunately, the woody scrub grew very low to the ground with few leaves and no shade to speak of.

Sandie took a small sip of water from his belt canister as Rogue walked over to him, asking "Do you have a feel for when we'll pick up a trail?"

The white-haired old man plugged the water canister, replacing it on his belt. "We've been on a trail since we left the drop ship" he said with a grin. "It's a less traveled path than most, but it'll lead us to Fort Tusken where we'll find the major trail we need.

Topolev and 0600 walked up beside Rogue as Sandie continued, turning to look their way. "I've been to the boneyard before." He tapped his temple. "It's in here. Don't worry, I'll get you there."

Tops rolled his eyes as he turned and walked away from the old man.

As he did, 0600 stepped closer and took a pinch of Mandalorian Sweetgrass from a pouch on his belt, shoving it between his front lower teeth and lip. "How far is it, would you say? How many dead Banthas do you figure we'll find once we get there?" He worked the Sweetgrass into place with his tongue.

He and Rogue listened as Sandie squinted a bit, closing one eye completely against the bright sunslight. "It's nowhere near a complete crossing of the 'Sea, but several days' journey into her heart nevertheless."

The weathered desert dweller motioned an extended finger toward an outcropping of stone thrust up from the sand out near the horizon. Rippling waves of heat rising up from the ground made the distant stone joggle and dance like mountains in a dream.

"We'll make it to Fort Tusken before sunsdown. It's near the base of those hills" he said. "The boneyard itself is littered with the gleaming white bones and decaying carcasses of several thousand Bantha; fallen beasts in the cavern as far as you can see, from countless generations. Don't worry, I'll know it when I see it; or more precisely, when I feel it." He tapped the center of his chest. "When I feel it."

0600 spit into the sand, looking toward Rogue, "I imagine with that many rotting Banthas around, we'll know it 'when we smell it'."

Rogue grinned, turning to call out to everyone in the group. "Let's move out!"

As the collection of voyagers stood up and readied themselves and the animals to set out again, Falker grabbed the reigns of one Eopie, leading it around to one of the sleds for harnessing. As he looked back at the animal, he noticed a bright glint flash out from the sand some distance behind their procession. He pulled off his goggles and looked with his naked eyes.

I stopped and looked back to where his eyes were trained. "What is it?"

He blinked twice, staring hard behind us, trying to see the thing again, then he turned to me. "I could've sworn there was something there, but I don't see it now. I guess it was nothing, Deck. This damned heat must have me seeing things."

I looked back in the direction he'd been staring as he walked off with the Eopie and Rogue came over to me.

"What was that about, Deck?"

I flashed him a brief look and cut my eyes back to the distant sand, pointing with my right hand extended toward the horizon. "Falker said he saw a small flash of light back there, just for a moment."

Rogue looked in the direction I indicated. "I'll get on the comm to 1265 and make sure our Nediji assassin is still on or near his ship."

I nodded as I walked away. "Good idea."

Rogue gave the distant sand another look, then swept his stare slowly across the sands to the right and left.

It was later that afternoon that Engedi Etz, walking alongside Danz at the rear of our column, stopped walking momentarily. He turned back to look where we had been, only to see our tracks trailing off toward the horizon, disappearing entirely about halfway there; filled in and swept smooth by the abrasive ground spray constantly blowing over the ground.

He turned and hurried to catch up with Danz. When he did, he found it hard to contain his thoughts. "You know, when you cruise past places like this on a destroyer, you really can't appreciate the size or scope of what's below you. It's so silent and still from out there; serene even."

"I know what you mean" said Danz. "When I left Bestine IV I was amazed at how calm it all looked from above, so beautiful like a gleaming, blue jewel. You'd never guess the violent oceans on the surface were constantly pitching and rolling, with waves crashing into what little solid ground there was; you'd never even begin to think about all the life and danger in the waters of that blue planet."

He stopped walking and stooped down, grabbing a handful of sand. "You know what I've noticed?" He spread his gloved fingers apart, allowing the sand to drain between them, pouring to the ground in three smooth streams.

Etz shook his head as Danz looked back from the horizon to the spilling sand. "There are no animal shells in this sand."

Etz looked at the sand around them as Danz continued.

"Either this planet never had any water and aquatic life on it, or anything that was once here has been completely broken down and pulverized by the sheer power of the moving sand." He stood up.

Etz looked back out over the dunes. "You know, our run in with that Sandperson, and all the bones we saw in that cave got me thinking. After we got back from rescuing those kids from the crash in Beggar's Canyon, I read up on Tatooine's history a little. It said long ago there were vast oceans and a jungle over most of the surface."

Danz looked around at the barren dunes in every direction.

Etz continued, "Hard to believe, I know, but the jungle was inhabited by the native and technologically advanced Kumumgah. At some point, the Rakatan Infinite Empire invaded the planet, conquering and enslaving the Kumumgah. Eventually, they rebelled and managed to drive the Rakata off planet. Unfortunately, their victory was short-lived.

In retaliation, the orbiting Rakata ships subjected the planet to a bombardment that boiled away the oceans, and "glassed" the remaining surface. It basically fused the silica in the soil into glass. Subjected to the high winds, the glass broke up over time into sand. Very little of the original moisture remains. The utter destruction and resulting climate change split the indigenous Kumumgah into two races: the Ghorfas, or ancestors to the modern day Sandpeople, and what we know today as Jawas."

"Huh." said Danz throwing the last of the sand down. Without another word, he and Etz hurried to catch up with the group.

Rogue walked just ahead of them with 4120, trying to reach 1265 on a commlink but having no luck.

"Still no answer?"

Frustrated, Rogue turned to his XO as he clicked off the comm. "No, and now this thing needs charging." He replaced it on his belt.

4120 thought a moment as they walked. "Well, 1265 is watching Kaird. Maybe he can't respond without compromising his location. When we stop for the night, I'll set up the fusion generator so you can get a charge, then you can call Felth and have him go check 1265 at the spaceport in person and report back."

Rogue nodded. "Good plan." He looked behind, noting the same disappearing footprints Etz had just seen. "Something's just not right. I have a bad feeling about it."

The mountains that marked Fort Tusken's location had grown steadily larger as our day wore on. We were drawing close when 'Lina called for help from the end of the procession. "Doc! Doc, we need your med kit and some water. Erek just collapsed."

The old man gripped the bag's straps stretched across his chest as he turned back and ran toward them. 'Lina moved aside as he reached them. With one foot, Doc dug a rut in the sand and knelt in it beside Erek. He pressed his hand on the boy's forehead and felt at his neck for a pulse. "Clear a space here to lay him down. Dig it down about as deep as the rut where I'm kneeling, the sand is cooler there."

'Lina began scooping sand aside and Bem dropped down beside her to help. As they finished, Zu crouched down, grabbing Erek's feet as Daegan helped Doc move his upper body into the cooler spot. I knelt down at the boy's head with a container of cool water. Doc untied the loose wrap around his own neck and head, soaking it with the water. Then he placed it on Erek's face and neck, moving it around slowly to cool and dampen his skin. The others sat Erek up slightly as I poured a small sup of water. Doc took it from me, trickling a small bit into the boy's mouth. His moistened tongue moved a bit, and he began speaking deliriously in unrecognizable words and phrases.

Doc stripped off his own outer robe as he addressed the group that had gathered. "Give him some shade. Take this and block the suns."

We all stood up, grabbing a place on the garment, stretching it out taut to create a shadow that fell across them both. Doc gave Erek another small sip of water, immediately noting the cooling effect of the shade.

As we continued taking care of Erek, Sandie pushed ahead to the top of the next dune. He caught sight of something ahead and ducked down suddenly, falling flat to the sand; careful to remain hidden behind the ridge line. He slowly raised his head up to peer over the dune's crest.

In the valley beyond lay the exposed base of the jagged, towering hills. Between us and them sat Fort Tusken.

A small group of freighters, loosely assembled in an unmoving cluster, lay adrift far above a massive green and blue planet smeared with dense white and grey clouds. A squadron of snubship fighters drifted between them with engines off. A short distance from them, a lone freighter, the _**ALLANTRID**_, sat at a full stop after having limped a fair distance to reach the orbital platform she was now moored alongside.

From the far side of the platform, a lone X-wing fighter suddenly appeared from within the black as it reverted from hyperspace. Immediately upon its appearance, the engines of all ships in the fighter squadron roared to life, propelling half of them away from the freighters to intercept the inbound ship, and maneuvering the remaining half into a defensive posture around them.

As they approached it, a voice sounded in their headsets from the newcomer's fighter. "Commander Narra, this is Commander Skywalker. Rieekan informed me of your status and asked that I check on your situation as I passed near the system."

A moment later Narra's voice came over the comm. "Renegade flight, stand down. I repeat, stand down. Nice to hear from you Luke! We've got a freighter undergoing repairs that shouldn't take much longer. We could use another set of eyes and sensors if you've got the time, we're pretty vulnerable sitting out here."

"Roger that, Commander. I'll stay with you until you are clear to continue on." Luke maneuvered his ship toward the other fighters and cut his engines, drifting slowly into their formation. R2 electronically mumbled his disapproval.

Orbiting silently and invisibly, deep in the haze and ionic distortion of Derra IV's upper atmosphere, a small ship took notice of the gathering.

_Chapter 34: Into The 'Sea_


	35. Chapter 35

_**The Sandtrooper's Story**_

**Chapter 35 – Staying The Course**

Taking advantage of a brief reprieve from the storms that had raged across the frozen surface of Hoth, Mon Mothma ambled through the defensive trenches roughly cut into the snow and ice outside the base.

The seemingly endless wailing of the winds had finally given way to still, clear blue skies and sunlight. The spiked deck plates beneath her boots had been dropped haphazardly into all of the trenches, creating a more stable path than the bare snow and ice afforded. Rebel troops hurried around her, moving supplies, guns and energy cables to key positions along the trench and to the many turret gun arrays that made up the outer defenses.

Her personal guard detail trailed silently behind, noticing that today she was more disconnected than usual, quieter; more distant. Although fairly young, Alia had been her aid for years and had not only known the duties her position required, but also the proper manner and behavior required among any dignitaries she might encounter. The guards mourned the loss of her as well.

Alia was so young. So much loss and pain had been endured by so many. Darkness had somehow wormed its way in, rotting the core of the Senate; choking out everything the Republic had been. She suddenly realized how quiet it was. All the troops had moved on to forward areas and were gone; she was alone in the trenches, staring out across the ice fields. The Emperor must be stopped, she thought. If he and Vader had built one station capable of destroying planets, they could build more, if they hadn't already.

Tears streamed down her face, burning on her cheek in the frigid air as the faces of her friends Bail and Breha appeared in her mind's_** eye, both gone in an instant along with the rest of Alderaan, while their daughter watched helplessly. **_

_**Mon continued to wander ahead of the guards, openly weeping now. **_

Inside the base, Yané walked the frozen corridors in search of the princess. Their meeting had been both abrupt and awkward, and she feared the wrong first impression had been made. She sensed something between Leia and Solo, and did not want to, in any way, be seen as an obstacle.

She made a turn into a dim hall lined with doors on one side. As she moved through the narrow corridor, she heard music flowing from within one of them. It stopped her in her tracks; the sudden recognition. She closed her eyes, listening as she turned back toward the door. It was the unmistakably beautiful strains of the Royal Anthem of Alderaan.

She retraced her steps and knocked softly on the door, waiting for a response. The music played on and she heard no movement from within. She knocked again, harder this time. Almost immediately the music fell silent, after which the door opened slightly.

Torynn Farr's face appeared in the narrow crack of the open door. It was obvious from her puffy face and red eyes that she had been crying. "I'm sorry, did the music disturb you?"

"No, not at all. I didn't mean to intrude." Said Yané, pausing briefly. "Did you have friends there? On Alderaan?"

Fresh tears fell down Torynn's cheeks. "Family" she sobbed. "My entire family was there, my whole world. I was off-planet on my way to Talasea when . . ." she hesitated. "When it happened."

The retired royal handmaiden from Naboo took a shallow breath, giving a moment of silent solemnity to the memory of those lost and then reached out, gently wiped Torynn's tears from her face. "I can still remember hearing that music for the first time, as a child. My father was a diplomat, and had brought my mother and me along on one of his many trips to Alderaan. He said he wanted to expose me to its rich art and culture."

She closed her eyes briefly. "I can still smell the sweetness of the air; hear the anthem as the royal procession made its way through the streets, open for all to see. I could feel the energy that emanated from the people and indeed, the very planet itself. I returned many times over the years both in a business capacity and for pleasure, spending days wandering the capital city, taking in the architecture and art. I mourn it from a different place, but mourn it all the same."

She could see the pain across Torynn's face. "You know dear, I know someone who shares your personal attachment and loss; someone here in this base. The Princess Leia Organa has been a secret leader of the Alliance for some time now. She lost her entire family as well, and is the last member of the royal house of Alderaan. I was actually looking for her when I heard the music. I know she shares your pain, and probably hasn't allowed herself to grieve, or hear that sweet anthem in some time. Why don't you come with me, and we'll find her together?"

Torynn nodded as she wiped away the last of her tears. She disappeared for a moment, quickly returning with her parka. Yané put her arm around the young girl's shoulders and closed the door as they walked away in search of the princess.

Beneath the endless depths of the black, star-filled Tatooine night, Falker and Topolev lay flat out on the sand, each with a set of macrobinoculars, peering over the crest of the dune they lay on. The lenses rotated back and forth slightly, moving in and out with the hushed whirring of tiny electric motors, as they worked to focus on the guards stationed just outside Fort Tusken.

Topolev noticed that with this closer look, the outer shell of the Tusken head wraps was pretty grotesque. The bandages that wrapped their heads were dry-rotted, tattered and frayed from years in the harsh Tatooine elements and obscured any direct view of the creatures beneath. He lowered his macros, looking down toward the fort with his own, unaided eyes. "I think Rogue was right, to set camp where we did."

Falker nodded slightly as he replied, still looking at the electronic image in the eyepieces of his macros. "With Erek trying to get his strength back, and us being this close to the Fort, it made sense for Sandie to suggest it to him. Tomorrow morning we'll have to keep a close watch on that herd, though." He pointed to the far right corner of the Fort where they were gathered. Tops looked in that direction, nodding in agreement as Falker switched off his binoculars and slipped them back into their case.

"Now it's up to them" said Topolev. "Somehow I never imagined the course of a mission would be directed by following a herd of Banthas."

Falker grinned a little as he pushed himself up to his knees. "It's time for Ddraig and Blade to take over watch for us. I'll go back and send them up to relieve you."

Topolev nodded as Falker stood up and headed back to the group, leaving him alone on the dune.

A split second after visually confirming the fugitive across the room against the wanted poster displayed inside his visor, a calm settled over him. His pulse began to slow, and his breathing became rhythmic and measured as he waited.

The man he watched ordered a drink for himself and the woman beside him. The noisy bar was thick with smoke, and patrons busily shouting out their bets on various races and sporting events being broadcast on large screens around the room. There were many people between him and the man across the room, so he waited. He waited for the crowd to thin and finally part, giving him a clean shot.

As it did, he immediately raised the custom EE-3 rifle, snugging the stock up against his shoulder and adjusting a setting before taking aim. Relaxing, he squeezed the trigger slowly between breaths, between heartbeats. The boisterous, raucous crowd was suddenly silenced by the blast discharged from his weapon.

When the barrel of his gun stopped smoking, he laid it gently across the crook of his left elbow and silently made his way across the room. The woman seated at the table stared wide-eyed at the Mandalorian warrior as he approached, tears streamed down her face, and her body shook uncontrollably with shock and fear.

The fugitive and most of the table he stood beside had suffered a direct hit from his broad spectrum, wide-angle disintegration blast. Both the man and the furniture had been instantly incinerated, and yet both retained their shape. The blackened man stood unmoving beside the charred table.

Fett slowly turned his head to the woman, uttering only a single word. "Go."

The terrified woman slipped out of her seat and ran off into the crowd.

The bounty hunter cocked his head to one side and reached out, touching the man on his shoulder. As he did, what had been the man fell forward into the table, both collapsing to the floor in a silent cascade of ashes. Fett took a step closer, wiped away the fine ashes that had settled on his gauntlets and chest armor, and knelt.

He ran his gloved fingers through the ash pile, searching for something he could use to identify his victim. Except for a few bone fragments and the molten remains of a small sidearm, there was nothing left.

Images of the races and games flickered overhead on video monitors, announcers busily commenting and crowds cheering. Other than those voices, the room was silent, and all eyes were on him. He retrieved a small transparent vial from one of his belt pouches, dropping three of the bone shards inside before scooping up a bit of the ash. He pressed a stopper in place, sealing the container as he stood up. The stunned crowd silently parted, clearing a path to the door.

If this unlucky guy had seen him first, he might have run, but he would have just prolonged the inevitable and died tired. The holonet wanted poster that bore his image had clearly stated dead or alive. With that said, Fett knew all too well that Vader and the Emperor savored their trophies.

Shortly after his father's death, the new Emperor had given him a job, and paid handsomely for it. His first bounty had been the recovery of the broken and defeated body of Jedimaster Mace Windu. He had struggled with and dragged the almost unrecognizable corpse of his father's murderer from the dirty back streets of the surface of Coruscant. He dragged it in to claim his money and give the Emperor the first of many dead to occupy the grisly trophy room for slain Jedi beneath his carbonite prisoner meditation garden.

Since then, there had been so many others. Some bodies returned, some just ashes like this latest victim. Over the years, Vader had been none too happy about receiving a pile of ashes for expected payment. The Dark Lord had a macabre need to see the bodies. He knew most of the victims; he needed to see that they were dead.

The bones rattled as he shook the vial and slipped it back in his belt pouch. The Empire would just have to identify the bone chips on this one.

He passed through the door out into the cool night air, thinking to himself. Spotting and identifying this loser had been the first favorable turn of events since his ship had been damaged on Yavin IV as he watched Solo slip away. The repair team he'd brought in had found the mangled outrigger torn off during pursuit of the 'Falcon, but they couldn't make repairs in the jungle. It took some time, but they were finally able to re-calibrate the one remaining outrigger to stabilize a short flight.

After limping here to Vorzyd V, the real repairs had begun. Fabrication of custom replacement parts were necessary, but taking too much time. He was losing money in unclaimed bounties. Until the ship was finished he knew there was little he could do, and had resigned himself to being stranded until repairs were complete. Thankfully, that time was almost upon him.

Two attractive, blue-skinned dancers passed by, eyeing him as he stepped into the street. He turned his head to admire them. He'd spent most of his time waiting in the bars and casinos, luckily his weakness for Twi'leks made it bearable.

At some point in the still blackness of the pre-dawn hours, nightmares of Belliran V had once again awakened Rogue; terrifying nightmares of suffocation and death, trapped beneath endless piles of dead Ithorians. Unable to shake the memories and images from his head, he got up and set to work, anxious for the next day to begin so we could be on our way.

He filled the time while everyone else slept by leading the Eopies up from the pit, and raising the half-buried repulsor sleds to the surface. He fed and watered the animals, harnessing them to the sleds, readying them for the coming day.

Now everyone was awake and preparing to leave. There could be no fires or fusion furnaces this close to the fort; no detectable heat plumes could be risked. Etz chewed on a high energy ration bar and tossed one to Rogue as he walked by, heading for the forward dune position. He unwrapped it, and took a bite as he looked back over the men under his command and the civilians along for the ride. Diffused light had begun to chase away the darkness as daybreak drew nearer, but the suns had not yet risen, and in the ambience of the pre-dawn light, the sand beneath our feet took on a mystical glow.

Daegan packed his bag, never taking his eyes off Rogue as he made his way through the camp checking everyone's progress, continuing on to the forward dune.

Ddraig, 0600 and I were lining up the Eopies and sleds when Blade appeared, striding over the forward dunes' sandy crest heading toward Rogue.

"The herd's awake and some are starting to wander off. We need to get moving if we're going to follow them, but we need to do it quietly." He turned toward the mountains that rose up behind the fort. "You see that linear dune over there?" indicating a sandy ridgeline winding to the left side of the fort. "It goes past the mountains out to the open desert beyond. Several banthas were already heading along the side facing the fort."

Rogue nodded. "Yes, I see what you mean. That'll give us perfect cover. We'll follow on the back side of that dune line until we're beyond the mountains. You and Ddraig keep the herd in sight as they head that way. We'll catch up to you once we're out in the open. Keep your commlinks on."

"Yes, sir."

Blade turned and disappeared over the dune as Rogue motioned Etz, 0600 and Ddraig over to him. They assembled around him. "Get everyone ready to be on our way. We're leaving in five minutes. We'll be moving along the far side of that dune line." He indicated the ridge that snaked out to the open desert. "Tell them we're all to maintain absolute silence until we're beyond the mountains. Move it."

"Yes, sir" replied Ddraig, and they scattered.

We had been walking in silence for a little over an hour when 4120 and Rogue, broke away from the head of the group, climbing to the top of the dune

The rest of us stopped walking while they moved up to check our position. They peered over the crest of the dune, spotting Ddraig and Blade just ahead.

Beyond them, a group of Banthas lumbered into the open dunefield of the 'Sea. As far beyond them as could be seen, the crests and valleys of countless dunes rose and fell, disappearing into the rippling heat waves off near the horizon.

The rest of the caravan crossed over the ridge, falling in line with Ddraig and Blade behind the slow-moving herd.

Daegan and Ash kept a close eye on the troops ahead as they cautiously spoke in hushed tones. Ash looked away toward the open desert. "Well, wasn't that the plan? Lay low with no communication?"

Daegan kept walking, staring straight ahead, eying Rogue carefully. "Yes. I mean, I know the mission was a success, they destroyed the station, but everyone in my strike team was supposed to have been contacted by now."

"Give it time" said Ash. "That mission generated a lot of heat. That's all got to die down."

Daegan shook his head. "I just have a bad feeling about it. It was our job to steal the information and pass it to wave two on Toprawa. After that, we scattered and hid, just like we planned. Wave two transmitted the data to the Alliance from there and were supposed to disappear for a while and then signal everyone in wave one. Something must have gone wrong, otherwise I'd have heard from Bria by now. I just hope . . . "

Ash quietly shushed him as Etz came walking past toward the rear of the column. Both continued walking in silence.

The hours silently slipped by as we followed the herd further and further into the 'Sea. It was mid afternoon when I turned back to check our progress against a landmark, only to discover that the mountains and fort were almost completely gone from view. I pulled the stopper from my canteen and took a drink. I never had cared for the water from my backpack, and as long as I had fresh water, I'd decided to drink that first.

A fine spray of sand whipped across the ground, forming and re-forming delicate ripple patterns on the untouched landscape. Most of the dunes out here in the open were hundreds of meters tall, more like sandy foothills than mere dunes. This place was as raw and beautiful as it was deadly.

Toward the middle of the procession, between two of the sleds, Falker walked quietly beside 'Lina. Finally he looked over to her and broke the silence with a question. "So, do you know anything about that fort? I thought the Tusken Raiders were cave-dwellers. Did they build that place?"

"No." began 'Lina, shaking her head. "The Sandpeople didn't build it, they stole it. Part of my research here is Ghorfa history."

"Ghorfa?" asked Falker.

She grinned. "Ghorfa is the proper name of their race, but they're known as Sandpeople for obvious reasons." She brushed her hair from her face, trying to distill everything she knew about them down to a concise, yet interesting level.

"The fort itself was actually built by settlers from Bestine IV, who named it 'Fort Tusken' after an island on their homeworld."

A wind gust blew her hair into her face. She reached up, brushing it away as they continued walking.

"About two years after it was built, the Ghorfa clans united and led raiding parties to the fort, assaulting and battering it. The attacks were relentless and went on for nearly three years until the settlers finally abandoned it."

"Nice of them to be so friendly" said Falker.

"It was those attacks that earned the Sandpeople the nickname _**Tusken Raiders**_" she continued.

"Briefly during the Galactic Civil War they lost control of the fort to a group of moisture farmers and the mercenaries they had hired to help recapture the fort. Unfortunately, it was short-lived. A union of the Ghorfa clans mercilessly attacked in numerous waves and reclaimed the fort."

Stopping in her tracks, she looked off across the sand, then over to Miren. "Actually, would you like to hear a recording of one of those moisture farmers?"

"Sure." Said Falker, wondering what she might produce from her bag.

"Miren? Miren, come here" she called out.

Miren stopped walking and just waited for them to catch up to her.

"Hey, do you have the sound clip I jacked out of that recorder? Remember?" asked 'Lina.

"Jacked out?" asked Falker.

Lina smiled again and Miren rolled her eyes as she reached into her bag and handed over the recorder. "Yeah, we were looking through some stuff at a Jawa junk sale when I found it. They wanted way too much for the beat up old recorder, but I really wanted the message I'd found on it, so while Miren distracted them, I jacked in and moved the file over to her recorder."

He flashed a reproachful look.

"What?" she asked innocently. "The message has historical value, and they can still sell the recorder. No harm done."

She selected the recording from a menu and pressed the button to play it. Nothing happened; there was no sound at all. She pressed the play button again several times, but the recording would not begin.

"Did you break the recorder, Miren? I can't get it to play now."

The silence that followed was broken by Rogue as he walked back along the line of people, addressing everyone. "An old bull and cow have stopped to bed down for the night. The rest of their herd is moving on without them. We're going to stop here for the night and follow the older members tomorrow. They're our best bet of being led to the recording."

He continued on past them, giving the directions again for those further down the line.

Frustrated, 'Lina stuffed the recorder in her bag. "I'll look at it once we get settled down for the night. When I figure out what's wrong with it, we can listen."

"Ddraig and Deckard have been working on an astromech back at our base. I'm sure they could help with it if you want."

She nodded as they headed forward to the selected camp site.

Rogue connected the commlink to the pulsing fusion generator and switched it on. There was no static, no sound at all. He looked at it disgusted.

4120, who stood beside him offered an observation. "It probably has to BE charged to work, not actively being charged."

Rogue switched it off and laid it beside the generator. "I'll let it sit overnight and try them again in the morning."

Topolev poked at the dying fire in the center of camp, and added another compressed fuel core. The hour was late when Ddraig finally managed to get Miren's recorder to work. 'Lina hugged him enthusiastically, grabbed the recorder and invited him to watch. He followed her over to where Falker was stretched out.

"It's working! Ddraig got it to work"she said excitedly. "There's no holo image or even a video feed, only audio, but it gets the point across."

The two troopers watched as 'Lina selected the recording from a menu, pressed a button and the rough, static-filled recording began to play.

I cocked my head to one side and listened to the nearly forgotten voice on the recording.

"_We've finally managed to fight off the remaining Sand People from Fort Tusken. As the last one fell, I was overwhelmed with profound pride as the fortress had at last been recovered from the hands of the foul murderers who have soiled its halls for so long. I look forward to sending word to... what's this... another wave of Tusken Raiders has appeared! They seem to fight with renewed vigor and have reinforced their numbers with much more powerful warriors this time. Perhaps my thoughts of victory are far too premature . . ._"

At that point, the recording completely filled with static and stopped. We all sat in silence, mentally replaying the snippet in our heads, realizing the moisture farmer's captured words were probably his last.

"You three should get some rest" I said, settling back down on my bed roll. "Morning comes early out here, and we move out when the Banthas do."

'Lina nodded. Ddraig helped her up and they each went back to their makeshift beds.

A brief slash of light seared across the sky overhead. Without thinking, I made a wish, the way my parents had shown me when I was little. I opened my eyes, staring at the darkness where the light had been, memories of that faraway place and person flooding in.

Closing my eyes, I willed myself to sleep.

_Chapter 35: Staying The Course_


	36. Chapter 36

_**The Sandtrooper's Story**_

**Chapter 36 – Unforeseen**

It was somewhere between mid-morning and noon and the heat was already reaching near unbearable levels. The Banthas course had been parallel with a chain of hills to our left, following the ridgeline to stay up where the air was moving. A change in the dune pattern forced man and beast alike to climb the high sandy mounds and descend into the deathly still valleys between them, the heat of which very nearly sucked the breath from your lungs. What little reprieve we had seen in recent days had abated in favor of more torturous temperatures.

We in the 104th were somewhat protected by thermal suits, but our guide and the civilian entourage of archaeologists lacking such equipment required more frequent stops to rest, cool down and take a drink. Fluids were flowing out of them almost as quickly as they were being replaced.

We pressed on until just beyond midday, when the suns began their customary decline in the afternoon sky. This time we stopped for water and lunch.

As the others relaxed under makeshift shades and pulled food rations and water from the supply sleds, I took a good long look at where we were, not just the next foot placement ahead in the sand. I shielded my eyes and turned completely around, realizing that the mountains, all landmarks of any kind for that matter, had seemingly fallen off the edge of the planet and we were very much alone, adrift in the 'Sea. We were midway up the slowly inclined slope of a dune with limited visibility directly ahead, but there was only sand as far as you could see in any other direction.

0600 and 4120 watered the animals, then made their way to the food and water station set up by Etz. I slipped my canteen under the water nozzle and filled the container to the top, grabbed a ration bag and sat down in the sand with my back against the back of the supply sled.

I had just taken a drink and bitten off the second piece of Ronto jerky when a small swarm of tiny, sand-colored animals came racing over the ridge of the dune, down its face, and straight through our small group of travelers without so much as a second thought.

Miren and 'Lina quickly clambered on top of one of the sleds to get away from them. Zu just unholstered her pistol and took several shots at them, little sand plumes spraying up where the missed blast points hit.

Sandie was laughing hysterically at the little creatures and dancing around to the strains of unheard music flowing through his head.

"Scurriers!" yelled 0600. He quickly pulled the rifle off his shoulder and squeezed off several shots, hitting nearly as many of the tiny beasts. "That'll taste a lot better than this protein bar, that's for sure."

"Scurriers?" I asked.

He looked over my way. "Yeah. You haven't seen them around the spaceport?"

I shook my head. "No."

"They're basically desert rats, but pretty tasty when cooked properly" grinned 0600 as he took aim again. "Usually they steer clear of humans" he said, turning to eye the dune they had come scampering over. "I wonder what they were running away from in such a hurry." He lowered his rifle without firing again, and walked the rest of the distance to the crest of the dune to have a look at the other side. I followed him up the grade.

I was a few steps behind, and still climbing when he dropped to his knees, shading his eyes from the suns' glare. When I reached his side, we both saw what had driven them our way.

An enormous Jawa sandcrawler lumbered slowly along the floor of the next valley. Its treads clanked noisily but efficiently, propelling the massive 'crawler forward at a slow, steady pace. Several Jawas walked beside it, shooting at the fleeing scurries. Several larger, dead furry beasts hung from the lower handrails along the side of the desert transport.

"See those?" 0600 asked.

"Yeah."

"Those are Womprats; nasty things. There must be some ahead somewhere. We'll have to keep our eyes open."

He must have seen the confusion on my face because he asked, "Did you think we were alone out here? I saw you lookin' around back there."

I nodded slightly.

He chuckled. "Besides heat and constant change, the Dune Sea is a master of deception. With the height and length of the dunes out here, you begin to lose perspective of relative size and distance. Someone could sneak up on you and you'd never see them coming; they'd look like nothing more than a small speck against the sand."

He started to walk back down to the rest of the group, then stopped and turned back to me. "You have to really be concentrating hard to see them."

I was following him back, walking between the others in our party heading back to my helmet and supplies, and stopped to grab an energy bar from one of the sleds. While I looked for one, I overheard Felth's voice crackling through on Rogue's commlink.

"That's correct, sir. There was no one in either ship, and no sign of 1265. I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you, but I thought it pertinent to conduct a thorough sweep of both ships, the bays and the surrounding areas within the spaceport to be certain, but there wasn't a single trace of Kaird or Guri."

Rogue sat a moment, staring off into the dunes. "Good work, Felth. Get back to base, and contact me if you hear from 1265. I'll be in touch."

"Yes sir."

Rogue switched off the comm, and was getting to his feet as I closed the lid on the ration crate. "Deck, let's get everyone down the line ready to push on." He tucked the comm back in his belt. "We're on the trail again in ten minutes. I want to catch up with the Banthas before they stop for the night. And keep your eyes open."

I took a bite of the bar. "Yes sir."

Felth switched off his commlink, placing it down on the bench as he returned to the damaged Republic Commando helmet he had been working on from down in the cache.

He pressed a small chin switch control inside and tilted the helmet slightly so he could more easily see the video playback on the tiny screen inside.

Images splashed across the screen, revealing a previously unrecovered piece of Holder's puzzle.

Felth's mind raced and he was lost in thought as the video ended.

Artoo's systems flashed online, and the little 'droid woke up, still secured in the socket of his master's X-wing fighter. Luke had activated the ship's converters, which alerted the blue astromech, awakening it and the ship's entire system from an extended idle time power save shutdown.

The snub ships of Renegade flight were falling into formation as the platform's crew brought the _**ALLANTRID's**_ repaired reactor online. All appeared to be going fine, and main engine tests were to begin momentarily.

Then, Commander Narra's voice came through everyone's headsets

"Renegade Flight, this is Renegade leader. I'm getting some interference on my sensors. Maintain close visual scanning. Renegade 4 stay closer to your transport ship."

"I copy boss."

Narra's voice broke through again. "Transport ships keep close together. Luke, get them into hyperspace once they're clear of Derra IV's gravity field. Fighters stick close to the convoy and keep your eyes open, all of you."

"Roger that, Commander" replied Luke, speeding off toward the lead transport.

"Renegade Leader, this is Renegade 7. Boss, I have a visual sighting of a number of small craft coming at high velocity from the far side of the planet."

"Can you identify them?" Narra countered.

"They're moving awfully fast."

Suddenly, cockpit alarms were triggered.

"Imperial TIE fighters, sir, must be 20 of 'em."

"Renegade flight this is Renegade leader, engage, engage, engage! Transport ships you're clear to jump to hyperspace as soon as you have viable coordinates."

"This is Renegade 3, boss there's another bunch of them dead ahead in our course. They're breaking for attack."

"This is Renegade 2, more TIEs approaching from Sector II, they're all over the place! Here they come!"

The _**ALLANTRID's **_engines fired to life, and the huge transport vessel began to slowly pull away from the platform.

"Renegade 3,4, 5 and 6 get up there and clear the way for Commander Skywalker and the transports. The rest of you protect the convoy. Luke, make sure they get away or we're done."

With Luke flying escort, the transport ships ran for it, throttling up to maximum acceleration.

Narra's eyes swept over the incoming swarm of TIE fighters. "All right renegade flight, let's hit 'em."

Chatter filled Luke's headset as he rolled to one side, vaporizing a TIE that had broken away from the others toward the transports under his protection.

"Watch it renegade 2!"

"I see 'em."

"On your tail, Renegade 7!" yelled Narra. "Scissor right, scissor RIGHT!"

"Here I come."

"Get 'em off me!"

"Gah! Boss we can't stop 'em there are too many."

"Boss they're going after the _**ALLANTRID **_and the others. They're going to . . . " An explosion followed by silence completed his sentence, as his ship was destroyed.

"Protect the transports! They have to get through!" yelled Narra.

The two lead transports pulled away from the fighting and slipped into hyperspace headed for Hoth. Once he was sure they were clear, Luke followed them. He didn't want to leave the battle, but if there was an ambush here, there could just as easily be one at Hoth waiting for them. Behind him above Derra IV, the battle raged on surrounding the remaining transports.

A brilliant explosion lit up the darkness outside their cockpits as one of the lumbering transports was destroyed. It was immediately followed by another massive flare and shockwave as the reactor of a second transport was pierced by enemy fire, ripping the ship apart. Renegade Flight scanned the areas around them, but neither had time for deployment of any escape pods.

"Boss, they're all over us, they just got Transports 3 and 4."

"This is Renegade 2. I'm hit! I'm hit! I lost both port-side engines!"

"Keep going" yelled Narra.

"This is Renegade 3, there are four TIE's on me, somebody help me, I can't shake 'em."

Renegade 2 pulled his damaged ship between the TIEs and Renegade 3, firing on and destroying two Imperial ships before spiraling headlong out of control into a third.

Several fireballs erupted against the blackness.

"Renegade 3?" screamed Narra.

Only static rolled back through his headset. "Renegade 2?"

"They're gone, boss. There's no way out, they're all around us."

"Boss, there's a bunch of em headed your way."

"All ships this is Commander Narra. Break contact and escape if you can. Break contact and run for . . . ."

Static replaced Narra's voice over the headsets of those remaining in Renegade Flight Wing.

"Boss!" screamed Renegade 7. He rolled his ship around just in time to see the fireball that had been their Commander fading to black. He keyed his comm, "Narra is gone; I repeat, Narra is gone. The transports are all burning or destroyed. Renegade Flight, scatter and re-group at the rendezvous point."

The few remaining ships each quickly plotted a hyperspace jump away from the onslaught, leaving behind the burning wreckage of transports and friends among their crews.

On this third day out from Fort Tusken, the morning had broken as it had the previous days, and we'd followed the two old Banthas further and further away from any hint of civilization into the interior of the Dune Sea.

The days, though still hot, were more tolerable and nights were becoming cooler as temperatures in general had begun to drop. Most friendly conversation enjoyed during the earlier days of the journey had now been played out and we were all acutely aware of remaining focused enough to simply place one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.

It was afternoon when the crushing glare reflecting off the near-white sand beneath our feet began to dim almost imperceptibly as we followed our eccentric guide deeper still into the 'Sea. We were marching single file away from the suns, following the old Banthas out ahead of us when the light winds we had enjoyed since morning suddenly died away to a still, silent calm. A dark shadow fell across the sand as the twin suns behind us were suddenly and totally eclipsed.

Rogue snapped his head back to look. Instead of the blazing fireballs he expected to see, an enormous, towering wall of boiling darkness several hundred meters high, stretching from one edge of the horizon to the other, was raging across the dunes, heading straight toward us.

"SANDSTORM!" he yelled, reflexively breaking into an urgent sprint.

Everyone turned to look back at the churning sand heading our way as he raced to unhitch two of the closest hover sleds from their Eopie harnesses. He dragged them side by side and switched off their repulsor fields. Both slammed into the sand, creating a two-meter high barrier between the approaching storm and us.

'Lina's mouth fell open in disbelief, Miren just stared, and Zu pulled the shiny blue goggles off her eyes, raising them in stunned disbelief to her forehead, whispering "Oh shit!"

Immediately we broke formation, shouldering our rifles and running, backtracking down both sides of the animal caravan.

The roar of the approaching storm was undeniable and escalating quickly. It was as if the subtly changing dunes had become enraged by our unwanted presence, rising up in a churning cloud of protesting fury, rolling over any and all that dared venture this deep into the vastness of the 'Sea. Tendrils of lightning violently lashed out from within the cloud, twisting jaggedly into the darkening sky.

"Deck, get help from them." I saw 4120 pointing to the archaeologists as he yelled to be heard over the increasing roar of the wind. "Get the rest of the animals over to Rogue's position! Danz! You three grab those sleds and get them over here; move it! It's almost on top of us!"

"C'mon!" I yelled. Members of the research team raced back to help me, scattering to control the spooked Eopies and centralize the gear toward where I had last seen Rogue.

As he ran to help gather everyone together, Danz noticed how this storm dwarfed the one out at the Lars homestead. Blade and Etz helped him lead six Eopies toward the makeshift shelter Rogue had started. They unhitched the remaining repulsor sleds, dragging them into position on either end, creating a curved barrier wall.

We took the tethers, corralling the freed animals into a group, lashing them to one of the provision crates behind our makeshift wall. As we did so, Erek, Ash and Daegan helped 0600, Falker and Ddraig unload and lift a small shield generator to the top of the center sled and brace it as he worked to start it up. I herded 'Lina, Miren, Doc and Zu behind the crates as they worked. Etz, Danz and Blade moved in behind us as the leading edge of the storm bore down on us.

Sand churned furiously around us now, hurled on the gusting winds of the ever-darkening sky as we all took cover behind the barrier. The spooked pack animals bent their long legs and lowered themselves to the ground, where they proceeded to shove their heads into the sand beside the sleds, bracing themselves.

Danz sat down with his back to the wall, pulling on his helmet, "I almost died in a flood of water once as a kid back on Bestine IV." He yelled. "I never thought in a million years I'd die in a flood of sand."

With his back to one of the sleds, Sandie wrapped cloth around his face and over his head. "Stay put and keep your heads down, and nobody's gonna die!"

"Get that shield going, hurry up!" yelled Rogue to be heard over the howling winds.

4120 crowded in beside me now. I turned to look through a narrow crack between the sleds, watching as the landscape changed before my eyes. Dunes eroded into valleys, as what had been familiar was now completely foreign.

Suddenly, small orbs of bright light about a meter across began to appear, rising out of the ground sand as I watched. The blowing sand popped and sizzled, sparking along their edges as they continued expanding to several meters across, steadily growing in intensity until each suddenly ejected a jagged web of energy, arcing up into the sky to merge with a connecting bolt of lightning slashing down from within the cloud in a deafening blast.

"Did you see that?" I yelled

"Ball lightning!" yelled Sandie, nodding. "Very dangerous!"

Then, through the blasting sand, a darker shape began to appear.

I lost sight of it as the full fury of the storm was upon us now, blowing a near solid curtain of sand between us and whatever it was. The roar was deafening and the sky grew dark. Sand immediately built up against the wall of sleds and crates, rising higher and higher, creating a new dune as it covered the equipment. I felt the weight of the deepening sand on my body increasing as I was buried further and further. I closed my eyes, worried more manifestations of ball lightning might suddenly rise out of the sand beneath us.

0600 yelled to the others with him, "That's it, get down, I'm starting it up."

The five others dropped below the level of the sleds, and 0600 threw the activation switch, dropping down behind them.

As he did, an energy dome spread out from the top of the shield generator, extending out to a circumference of roughly eight meters, completely containing the animals and us. The stinging sandblast abruptly halted as the protective barrier of the shield dropped all the way to the ground, intervening between the air-born sand and us.

Immediately, sand began building up against the outside of the energy wall. As the winds howled fiercely, we watched the collecting sand creep higher and higher up the outside of the power membrane, diminishing what little light there was. One of the Eopies brayed and snorted anxiously from behind the archaeologists as the sand finally covered the energy dome, plunging us until total blackness.

After what felt like hours trapped in the cramped darkness, the snarling winds finally passed, and the roar of the flying sand subsided.

When there was absolute silence outside, 0600 stepped up onto the platform of the repulsor sled, and reached up, switching off the shield generator.

As he did, a shower of sand fell on us from the roof above as the thin energy membrane dissolved, and the darkness we were in was suddenly broken. Light from the suns filtered through the swirling dusty haze that filled our pit, and a small trickling of sand tumbled in on all sides, sliding into what had become a crater in the altered landscape above.

0600 carefully climbed the rest of the way up and stepped off the top of the supply sled to the newly formed ground level above. "Hey Rogue? 4120? Get up here."

Our command team glanced momentarily at each other and then hurried up over the packed crates on the supply sled to the surface above. As they stepped onto the sand they saw 0600 about ten meters away, standing in front of a once-hidden desert secret that the fury of the sandstorm had seen fit to reveal.

Both men were speechless.

The others of us below in the crater curiously followed their lead, quickly scrambling up the contents of the sled out of the hole to the surface. The air was noticeably cooler now, in the wake of the storm.

As he climbed out, Doc pushed the crimson lenses of his goggles up on his forehead. "Oh my."

As I stepped up beside him, I realized this was what I had seen emerging from beneath the sands of the adjacent dune. The others followed behind me.

Sandie and everyone in both teams stood silently, staring past Rogue and 4120 as 0600 walked with helmet in hand, toward the huge, gleaming metallic hull of the medium range starship that lay before them, half submerged in the lapping sands of the Dune Sea. He reached out a gloved hand and touched the brilliant, silvery skin of the downed vessel.

Etz took a step closer, squinting. "She's so shiny!"

Blade walked up beside him. "The winds out here have been sand-blasting this thing for who knows how long. She must have gone down and been buried in a sandstorm or the Jawas would have found her; picked her clean by now."

Rogue leaned closer to 4120. "A medium range ship? This far out from a major port? They must have come in for a low level, low visibility approach to the spaceport, or outlying area, and gone down in a storm."

"I wonder what they were hauling?" said 4120, scratching beneath the frayed synth-skin where his arm met his mechanical hand; perspiration rolling off his forehead.

Etz and Ddraig walked up beside them as Rogue answered. "Probably smugglers of some sort; could be anything really, but most likely weapons, medical supplies or spice."

4120 perked up a bit. He glanced skyward, noting how late it had become. "We should probably make camp here tonight. By the time we get everything ready to move out, it'll be time to stop for the day anyway."

Rogue nodded in silent agreement.

"What about the animals?" asked Ddraig.

"We could just leave them down in the pit until we adjust the hoversled repulsors to raise them up here to the surface. It'll act like a natural pen," offered Etz, looking to Rogue, who again nodded his approval.

Sandie stepped up close to Rogue; a little too close for Rogue's liking, and he took a step back. The pungent old man took a step closer to once again close the gap between himself and Rogue. He leaned close, whispering through his scruffy beard. "What about the Banthas? We need to find them again. I don't mind moving ahead with a scout team to try and . . ."

Rogue cut him short, "The bull and cow most likely kept moving through the storm to keep from being buried. Don't worry; we put trackers on the older ones after we left Fort Tusken. They'll be bedding down for the night soon. We'll find them in the morning."

Sandie's eye twitched a bit at having been shut down, and he hurried away, muttering to himself.

_Chapter 36: Unforeseen_


	37. Chapter 37

_**The Sandtrooper's Story**_

**Chapter 37 – All That We Must Leave Behind**

As darkness blanketed the frozen surface of Hoth, the frigid temperatures fell beyond the range of bodily discomfort into the area of true danger.

Solo stood in the frigid winds with a half dozen of Rogue group's pilots beside their ships. The 'Falcon and a handful of X and Y-wings had been moved outside the main base hangar, allowing the new Ion Cannon's reactor a broad path from the outer shield doors all the way to the oversized turbolift at the back of the ice cavern.

Han and the others wore protective goggles and extreme thermal gear, and still all were shivering in the painful wake of the night winds. Each gust pierced straight through their gear, chilling them to their cores.

Chewbacca grunted nervously to Solo, throwing his head slightly to the left in the direction of the ships. The Corellian smuggler swept his eyes over the hulls of the snubships and the 'Falcon. All were sporting a thick layer of frost and ice that thickened as he watched. He glanced back at the Wook, nodding before herding the pilots into his ship to wait it out.

Peering through the white haze of horizontally blowing snow, from just inside the shield doors, Mon Mothma and the last of Alderaan's royal family stood watching the progress. Leia was able to make out the shapes of two large transport ships hovering just above the frozen ground, beyond where Solo and Rogue group were gathered. External cargo covers on the transports had been retracted, exposing the precious cargo within; cargo that Luke had been able to escort here safely, delivered at the cost of Commander Narra's life and the lives of many members of Renegade flight. The war continued to chip away; taking, always taking.

Several crews were busily offloading components for the one remaining stolen Ion Cannon. The twin to this defense gun had been lost when the Allantrid evaporated above Derra IV. From the second transport, two other teams simultaneously worked to retrieve the partially dismantled reactor that would supply its power. The princess was watching Luke unloading hardware alongside them when Yané and Torynn stepped up beside her.

The one-time handmaiden from Naboo bowed her head slightly, lowering her eyes as she addressed the princess, "Your highness."

Leia watched as they both bowed. Her life in the royal house seemed a lifetime ago, and yet, without thinking, the royal grooming she had been endlessly taught as a child effortlessly found its way back to her. "Rise."

Both women raised their heads as Leia introduced Mon Mothma. Again, both women bowed their heads momentarily in a show of respect.

Yané peered into Leia's eyes, "Your highness, this is Torynn Farr. She's a communications expert that will be working with you in the Command Center, who shares the loss of your homeworld. She too lost her family on Alderaan."

Yané's eyes pleaded "I thought perhaps you could meet and become acquainted as kindred souls, to help support each other."

Leia nodded "Hello Torynn, I'm pleased to meet a fellow survivor. Will you both excuse us for a moment?" The two women stepped several yards away from Yané and Mon, speaking of Alderaan and remembering their home.

Mon watched Yané watching them. "That was a nice thing you did."

Yané turned to her. "The poor girl is grief-stricken, and feeling isolated by her pain. She desperately needs someone who understands her loss."

Mon glanced at Leia, smiling softly "And what about Torynn, how is she?" She cut her eyes back to Yané.

The handmaiden lowered her head slightly, smiling herself.

Mon continued "There's been precious little to no time for it, but Leia hasn't allowed herself to grieve the losses she's endured either. Having someone that shares that loss will do her some good."

Yané looked off toward the two daughters of Alderaan "That's what I had hoped."

"And what is your position here on the base?" asked Mon.

Yané was unprepared for that question. The blank searching in her eyes spoke volumes as she turned to the rebel leader, silently locking eyes. "I've only just arrived, and don't really know what my future holds. I can't really go home, and . . . well, I don't know."

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot" said Mon. "Where was home, and why can't you return there? What did you do there?"

"I'm from Naboo" Yané offered. "For many years I served the royal house as handmaiden. As a young woman I served with Queen Amidala, and grew older with Queen Jamilla."

Upon hearing Amidala's name, Mon's eyes grew a bit wider as her glance cut to Leia. The princess was unknowingly in the presence of one of her mother's most trusted confidants.

They both took a step to the side as crew members began moving reactor parts past them on enormous repulsor sleds toward the rear turbolift.

Yané continued. "Captain Solo was kind enough to fulfill a promise to my niece Bria's father. He kept a necklace I had given to her as a child for safe keeping while she was away. He kept it, waiting for her return. When she didn't come back, he gave it to Solo, begging him to deliver it to me with the news of her passing."

She touched the necklace against her chest. "While Solo was with me in Theed, the Empire seized control of the capital, looking for him. I helped him escape." She clutched the pendant tighter now. "My lovely Bria . . ."

Mon's eyes flashed back to her as thoughts raced through her head; thoughts of Leia somehow piecing things together, of the deliberate protective deception unraveling before it was time. "Bria? Not Bria Tharen?"

Yané looked puzzled. "The same. How did you . . ."

Mon's eyes lit up as a smile of recognition took control of her face. "I'm so very sorry for your loss. Bria Tharen was responsible for transmitting the technical plans for the Death Star to the Princess from an Imperial communications tower on Toprawa. The plans she provided to us saved the Rebellion and an untold number of lives across the galaxy. Your niece was a hero."

"That's my Bria" answered Yané, staring at the pendant. "This is all I have left of her now."

Mon glanced outside at the last of the equipment being moved inside. "This might seem a bit sudden, but would you consider working with me? I've just lost my aide of many years to a horrible accident and I'm quite lost without her. Your background would make you a perfect fit, and it would honor what Bria was fighting for, if you're interested."

Yané rolled it over in her mind as Leia and Torynn came walking back.

Torynn smiled as the princess continued speaking, "I'd like that. It's been too long since I've heard the anthem play, and I'm sure we have so much more to talk about." As Leia turned back to the others, she saw the look on Yané's face and could feel they had interrupted something. "Is everything all right?" She looked to Mon.

The handmaiden nodded, smiling "Yes, everything's fine. I've just agreed to join the Rebellion as Mon Mothma's new aide."

All four women smiled, and congratulations were given as the ice-encrusted ships of Rogue Squadron flew slowly past into the base, the engines' roar drowning out their words. The sunbships were followed by the deep-frozen Millennium Falcon with Chewbacca at her controls. Luke followed Han on foot through the massive hangar entrance a moment later and continued on with the crew to the turbolift. Along the way he gave a nod to the control booth. The shield doors lurched, and began their slow journey closed.

Solo walked up to where the ladies were gathered, opening the front of his parka. He threw back his hood and pulled off the frosted goggles, revealing his red face. As he did, the shield doors closed together with a slam and locked behind him. "The others'll dock the transports and come in through the south entrance." He glanced back at the doors, unleashing his lopsided smile. "I wouldn't want to be caught on the wrong side of them. A night out there, in those freezing winds, it'd be a death sentence for sure."

Leia rolled her eyes and shook her head as the women turned and walked away from him, continuing their conversation.

He pulled off his gloves, watching them go, then walked to where the 'Falcon had come to rest. He wasn't used to such rejection when he was being so charming. His co-pilot descended the boarding ramp, grunting and groaning a few words his way, leaning his head to one side as he barked the last word.

Solo shook his head as he walked up the ramp. "Buddy, de-icing the 'Falcon'll be easy." He paused beside the Wook cutting his eyes toward the princess. "But I've got a better chance of thawing out this whole planet than I do of thawing her out" and he disappeared inside.

The Wook woofed a slight laugh before following him in.

Rogue closed the supply crate of rations, latching it down tight. "I know you think we should investigate the ship, but we don't have time to do it properly right now. We can tag it and come back when we've found the recording." He looked up at the shiny hull "We'll come back when we can do it right. There are too many things that could go wrong, especially with these civilians along for the ride" and he walked away.

They had just finished their evening meal and everyone was eagerly making a place to bed down after the long day.

4120 sighed, then looked up into the darkening sky. The last streaks of light were disappearing below the horizon and the black of night was closing in quickly. He turned his head to watch Rogue go. He'd just have to wait.

The still of the night covered them like a blanket. A cool, gentle wind lightly blew at the storm-loosened surface sand.

When he was sure everyone was asleep, 4120 quietly pulled his empty gear bag off one of the supply sleds in the pit and carefully made his way to the side of the ship. He located a mechanical number pad beside the main lateral hatch.

Quietly he depressed one button, then another and another in the universal emergency rescue combination. Each button remained depressed until the last digit was entered, then all seven sprang back flush with the ship's skin. As they snapped out, the end of a lever arm popped out.

He glanced around to make sure no one had heard, then turned back to the hatch. Gripping the lever arm, he pulled down slowly and firmly, feeling a mechanical release somewhere inside. As it disengaged, the hatch was pulled slightly into the side of the ship and opened in to the left. Sand poured into the lower portion of the doorway, as the bottom quarter of it was below the surface.

4120 took one last look around the camp and stepped into the darkness within. He moved into the airlock, powering up a small luminary on his belt when he noticed that the inner door seal was already broken. He stepped through and past a withered body in a flight suit still gripping the inner release arm for the airlock. The sunken face was emaciated, dried out; mummified. He turned away from the nameless victim and made his way to a central corridor, turning into it, heading for the rear of the ship.

Walking half on the pitched bulkhead wall and half on the deck to maintain his balance, he moved along the dim, sloping hallway, carefully stepping over another mummified corpse in a flight suit. He moved slowly, with his back armor sliding along the wall of the slowly descending corridor until finally he came to two hatches; one on the left side of the hall and the other opposite it on the right.

He was familiar with this style of ship and decided that based on their position, these were most likely twin cargo holds straddling the central corridor spine that ran all the way to the engine room.

Not thinking, he reached out and pressed a control button beside the first door, expecting the hatch to slide open. Of course it didn't. The battery cores had undoubtedly been drained long ago.

Immediately realizing his mistake, he reached out with his free hand running a gloved fingertip along the edge of the door until he found a slight indentation in the deteriorating seal. Wondering if it was locked, he pushed a fingertip between it and the frame and slid the door open a few inches, smiling at his luck. Pushing his shoulder into the small opening he'd made, he was able to slide the heavy, shielded door aside.

Inside he could see empty shipping crates, miscellaneous mechanical parts and empty cargo nets hooked on the wall; nothing in there.

Was that a sound?

Whipping his head around, he peered back down the long hall to make sure no one had followed him in. Once confident he was alone, he turned to the other cargo door across the dark hall, forcing it open the same way he had its twin.

He scratched at the red skin above his synthetic wrist stump as his eyes swept over the contents of the room. Several black metallic canisters lay open and scattered across the floor. Hundreds of small bundles in dark, light-shielding wrappings were strewn across the deck.

A slight twitch formed in the corner of his left eye as he realized he'd found the main cargo of the ill-fated flight. There was more spice here than he could fit in the emptied gear bag he held. He turned back, checking the hallway once more, then stepped through the threshold of the open hatch toward the awaiting spice.

Just inside the compartment, at about knee height, a sand-weathered sensor lens flickered imperceptibly to life as he tripped the motion sensor of a time-weary security system. The light behind the lens flashed dimly several times, followed by a substantial creak and groaning in the wall as the ancient hatch began to slide closed.

He spun around as the hatch slammed shut; mechanical locks firing into place, sealing him in.

The moment the door secured, sirens screeched out their loud, wailing cry of danger, echoing off the metal walls of the rotting ship and white strobing lights filled the compartment, flashing across his armor, revealing the sudden terror in his face. His hands moved frantically over the bulkhead around the door looking for a release, but the control box had been removed and a flat plate of metal had been welded in its place.

Without warning, rushing jets of iridescent pink gas streamed from security nozzles in the ceiling, clouding the room.

Turning his blaster around, he slammed the butt into the transparisteel window in the door several times. It bounced back, leaving the unyielding pane defiantly intact. He coughed as the gas began to fill the room.

Suddenly a null gravity security device kicked in, and he lost his footing as he lifted off the floor along with the rest of the cargo. The strobing, staccato lights made his rapid movements appear jerky, and nauseated him; or was that the gas? He turned his head into his arm, coughing again, this time expelling a fine spray of blood across the white of his armor. Wrapped packages of spice floated around him in the billowing pink clouds.

The gas was definitely a highly caustic irritant that burned his skin, and he began coughing violently as it burned deep inside his lungs. Now floating upside down, he un-holstered his blaster, flipped off the safety, leveled it at the hatch and fired. The recoil rolled him over backwards and the bright flash lit up the pink gas momentarily. The blaster bolt slammed into the door with a flash, immediately ricocheting off, flying past his head and searing a smoking hole in a shipping container on the other side of the room.

"Magnetically shielded. Not good." He released the blaster, which spun in the air and disappeared away into the expanding pink fog.

Twisting in the air, he coughed again; spraying out more blood. He was in serious trouble unless someone outside found him, and fast.

The heat absorbed under the constant beating of the twin suns had at last released itself from the top layers of sand, surrendering to the cool of the breeze. Our small band of travelers and animals had all finally settled for the night; each finding a place and position of relative comfort for sleeping.

The immense, black sky above was adorned with a tapestry of stars trailing off into the infinite reaches of space. The thin slivers of the two visible moons hung just above the horizon and threw too little light to spoil the view. High up in the atmosphere, several meteors burned by in short-lived, fiery streaks.

I sat leaning back on a bank of sand mounded up against one of the ship's exposed wings, staring out into the dunes. I was having trouble sleeping, and remembering the time spent submerged in black Anoat sewers looking for Moff Rebus; remembering how I had wished for somewhere dry to be. I knew as I watched the sky overheard, recounting the events of the day, that this place was certainly the other end of that wish. Working and living in Mos Eisely didn't give you an appreciation for just how desolate and dangerous this planet truly was, even more so than Dantooine on its worst day.

As I sat thinking, another flash ignited in the upper atmosphere overhead. This one grew larger and brighter, streaking past in a long arc, striking the ground in a brilliant impact and shower of sparks. I quickly grabbed for my macrobinoculars, training them on the distant glow. It was too far away to see more than just a light, but I marked the location into the macro's memory.

It was roughly straight ahead on our caravan's present heading. Maybe in a day or two, if we remained on this course, we might be close enough for me to check it out. I lowered the macros, turning around to see if the noise had awakened anyone. The Eopies were stirring somewhat, and Topolev was rolling over to change positions, but otherwise, the camp was quiet.

Doc and the rest of the diggers slept around the supply sleds. Sandie was stretched out on the ground near the animals. Most of the others were in line along the side of the ship's hull. Rogue had set up a bed roll against one of the supply sleds, next to 4120 as a sort of command post.

I paused, then looked back. Where was 4120?

I stood up and was cautiously reaching for my blaster when alarms abruptly sounded; piercing the night as they wailed from deep within the half-buried smuggling ship. Everyone awoke with a jolt.

The startled animals were immediately spooked, braying loudly and pulling hard against their restraints. One of them broke free of its tether and ran off into the blue-white sand of the dimly-lit dunes.

Rogue jumped up, looking down for 4120, who wasn't there. I was racing toward him now, "He's not there. I noticed he was missing just before the alarm went off."

The doc was pulling on his glasses and running toward us pointing to the side of the ship. "The hatch is open!"

Bem held a frightened 'Lina, and Miren covered her ears as Erek and Zu grabbed their blasters and ran with Daegan and Ash to our assembled group by the ship.

Rogue powered his blaster on. "Deck, you and Falker come with me. Tops, take 0600, Etz and the others and secure a perimeter around the ship."

"How can we help?" shouted Zu over the wailing.

Rogue turned back to her, yelling as we entered the hatch,"Take orders from 0600. Nobody gets in or out."

0600 quickly directed Zu to the front of the ship, sent Daegan and Ash toward the back and positioned Erek at the hatch opening. "You heard the man. No one in or out."

Erek stood at the opened hatch, blaster in hand watching the others disappear into the night. When they were gone, and he was certain we were far enough ahead, he turned and stepped through the opening.

The ship was listing quite far to one side and the rear was still quite buried in the sand. Once inside, we moved into the main corridor, walking half on the wall and half on the floor.

To our left was the cockpit, to the right was a main hallway leading down the backbone of the ship toward the rear cargo areas and engines. As we moved over a tangle of debris and hanging wires in the tilted hallway, Rogue activated three bright fusion glow rods, keeping one and passing the others to Falker and me. The screeching rise and fall of the alarm was utterly deafening. It went way beyond loud toward a distorted vibration of our eardrums that threatened to throw us off balance, and we were reduced to simple hand motions for communication.

Quickly we moved deeper into the ill-fated vessel looking for 4120 and whatever had triggered the alarm, passing several lateral gunners' stations. Rogue motioned to the second gun and the dried, skeletal remains of a dead crew member in a grey flight suit and headset that was slumped over its controls. The intense heat of the sand had long ago sucked all moisture from the ship, and the dead.

A third corpse lay sprawled across the floor and wall ahead, clutching a blaster. We pushed past the dead gunner and stepped over the other body as we moved still deeper inside.

The ear-splitting screech of the sirens steadily grew in intensity as we moved aft, passing through an open set of airlock doors with control panels illuminated by the fading emergency power. We continued on beyond them, working our way through a tangle of wires spilling from the overhead panels, clearing a path until finally, we arrived at the twin cargo areas. Here, we could feel the alarm rattling our bones and flashing alarm strobes streamed out of both hatches; one was open, one closed. We opted to check the open one first.

Rogue stepped quickly through the open hatch as Falker and I covered him from the either side of the opening. Aside from flashing lights, there was no movement in this room at all. We both raised our blasters as Rogue retreated back into the hall, stepping closer to the hatch on the opposite side. Through the small transparisteel port in its center we could see strobing lights filtered through what looked like pink smoke.

Falker reached for the door control, but Rogue grabbed his arm. "Wait! I don't like the look of this, it could be a trap." We all looked closer, studying the window pane.

Suddenly, what was left of 4120's face slammed into the window, leaving a bloody smear in its wake. Each of us jumped, the hairs on our necks instantly standing on end as we backpedaled, stumbling back in absolute shock and terror. Rogue and Falker slammed into the bulkhead across the hall, I fell through the open hatch to the floor in the other cargo area.

"4120!" Rogue blurted out, horrified.

I quickly got back on my feet, as we all watched helplessly. One of our own was struggling and dying against the inside of the hatch panel and there was nothing we could do. Visible in the strobing pink light, his face was liquefying, the crimson droplets of blood and tissue floating away.

Rogue lunged for the control panel, "Get him out of there!"

Falker grabbed him, throwing him back against the bulkhead, staring him in the eyes. "It's too late! It's too late."

We watched in horror as he clawed at the glass. His mechanical hand finally separated from his stump, spinning away into the gas as what remained of his arm liquefied. Once it disappeared, there was no more movement from inside.

I abruptly leaned over and vomited on the hallway floor.

As I wiped my mouth, Erek appeared out of the darkness behind Rogue, pushing past him, reaching for the door controls. "Get him out of there! What are you waiting for?"

Falker and Rogue both tried to stop him, but it was too late; he had slipped past them and was already pressing the hatch release. As he did, time slowed to a crawl and things shifted into slow motion.

Falker's eyes went wide. He turned away from Erek, dropped his glow rod and grabbed Rogue and me by the arms, shoving us into the dark hallway ahead of him. "Run!"

The instant the hatch seal was broken, the pressurized gas inside blasted out into the hallway, throwing Erek back into the wall, knocking him down before rolling through the hallway after us.

We tore through the corridor toward the front of the ship, ripping through the web of tangled wiring until we passed through the threshold of the central airlock doors. Falker slammed his palm against the dim controls to close them. They lurched, and slowly began sliding across the hall, powered by the fading emergency batteries. The gas churned down the hall toward us, closer and closer.

"Come on! Close! Close!" yelled Falker, reaching out to grab the window pane in the door, urging it to slide closed faster. Stubbornly the door continued its slow closure. Under normal power situations, this door would have slammed shut instantly, sealing off the rear of the ship, protecting the forward compartments and the cockpit.

The hatch finally met the opposite side of the hall, locking and seating the seals just as the gas curled up against the other side.

Each of us had backed away from the door, breathing hard; bodies shaking from the sudden adrenaline rush.

"What the hell just happened?" Falker yelled, slamming a fist into the wall. "What the HELL just happened?"

There were grim looks all 'round. 4120 was gone.

With the gas contained, Rogue took a step closer to the hatch, his mind reeling with what we'd just witnessed; 4120's final grisly moments, and the horror of knowing what suffering lay in store for Erek.

As we did, the young archaeologist appeared on the other side of the airlock door, banging furiously on the inside of the transparisteel port trying to get out, his skin already bubbling and dissolving.

All we could do was look away; he had sealed his own fate.

We turned away somberly, trying to push the image of Erek's frantic face far back in our minds as we headed for the airlock to the outside. We stepped through the hatch, out into the night air. As we did, we passed 0600, who had taken up Erek's guard position by the hatch.

"Did you guys find anything in there? There's still no sign of 4120, and Erek disappeared from his post here by the hatch. Nobody saw anyone or anything take him away from . . ."

"He's inside. Erek's inside. He and 4120 are both inside" Falker yelled, cutting him off grimly.

I jumped in to help Falker, who was suddenly unable to continue speaking. As I did, the screeching sirens from within the ship fell silent as the emergency power batteries finally died. I, however, was already yelling to be heard over them. "They're dead. Gone. Erek and 4120 are both dead."

My screaming voice, intended for 0600 only, had filled up the sudden silence, bluntly announcing their fate to everyone. The weight of my bluntly delivered words slammed home.

Doc and the rest of the diggers that had come running to hear what was happening froze when they heard the news.

0600 looked away for a microsecond, then questioned in disbelief. "Dead? How? What happened?"

Ash turned away, eyes closed in shocked acceptance.

Bem's mouth fell open.

Daegan shook his head incredulously. "He was right here not five minutes ago" he said pointing to the ground outside the hatch. "What happened?"

'Lina and Miren were shaking now, hands held over their mouths in shock.

Zu had an arm around doc, comforting the old man.

All eyes were on me, pleading with me to repeat what I'd spewed out and somehow make the words be different.

I was about to reply when Rogue cut in. "4120 was inside the ship for reasons unknown, and fell victim to a smuggler's trap, a highly corrosive gas that seemed to act like Vergesso nerve compound. Erek tried to set him free. Deckard, Falker and I were forced to retreat to a set of airlock doors and seal off that part of the ship."

"And kill Erek in the process!" yelled Daegan.

Gravely, Rogue stared into the young man's face. "He was dead already; they both were the instant they were exposed, it was only a matter of time. We had to seal the airlock to protect ourselves and everyone in proximity to the ship, including you. It could have killed us all. I'm sorry, it was not an easy decision to be made, but it had to be made."

The black of the moonless sky above seemed to reach on for infinity. A slight wind blowing across the sand was the only sound now, except Miren's sobbing. 'Lina comforted her as everyone silently turned and walked away, heading back to their sleeping areas. Doc trailed after them, pausing briefly to glance at Erek's bed roll before moving on to his own. The young band of research diggers leaned on each other, grieving together as a group.

The rest of our troops, still in their positions securing the perimeter, were called in by Rogue, and each told what had happened. As the heavy reality of loss crept in again, we too scattered; each of us dealing with it in our own way.

Rogue lay back on his bed roll, going over what had happened, replaying those terrible moments inside the ship over and over in a constant loop.

Falker walked off into the darkness beyond the fringes of our camp, into the small dunes that surrounded the camp.

I walked away in the opposite direction to get some air. We had all lost 4120 and Erek, but Falker, Rogue and I carried some pretty vivid images to process. I knew eventually we would push them to the back of things and bury them deep, but they would haunt each of us for some time to come.

We all re-evaluated our involvement in this quest. The troopers of the 104th MFP existed outside the official capacity of the Empire now, Rogue's holocron orders told us that when we arrived here. Did we really need to be searching for this recording? Was it worth the price we had paid already?

The darkness of that endless night somehow managed to slip painfully by, but even the idea of sleep was elusive to all.

_Chapter 37: All That We Must Leave Behind_


End file.
